


New York, 1926

by dustbunnyprophet



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Denial, F/M, Goldstein sisters feels, Graves is not good with emotions, Grindelwald carries Graves in his pocket, Impersonation, Investigations, Kidnapping, Medical Procedures, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:31:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8707072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustbunnyprophet/pseuds/dustbunnyprophet
Summary: Percival  Graves lay there, bound tightly with magic and locked inside something small enough for the other wizard to carry it on his person. At all times.
The interrogation scene and beyond. A GoldGraves story





	1. The Interrogation

**Author's Note:**

> Portions of dialogue had been taken directly from the film. No copyright infringment intended.

 

It was dark, a pitch black absence of light that seeped into his very skin. It filled his breaths with the smell of stale air. Unmoving. Just like him. He heaved his chest once more, relishing the control he had over that single portion of his own body. Everything else was limp, so lifeless Percival would have thought himself dead had it not been for the constant stream of sound coming from beyond the darkness which confined him. Voices, footsteps, chiming, clinking, the roar of no-maj engines. The muffled hustle and bustle of the city and the echo of conversations bouncing off the stone ceiling of the sublevels. 

He could tell that’s where they were now, the sharp sound of  _ his  _ soles on the floor resounding loudly in his ears. A familiar knot of bile settled on his stomach and Percival would have gritted his teeth had he been able to move his jaw. But all he could do was exhale with all the heat of his rage pushing his breath out. 

Hinges creaked. Then a chair scrapped on the floor. It was a familiar sound, the metal legs screeching as they were dragged. The interrogation room. He was nearly certain, they were in the interrogation room. In the darkness that engulfed him Percival could picture with ease the metal walls of the room, the unforgiving beam of white light that bathed the small table and the two chairs. He had spent countless hours there, sitting on the same chair  _ he  _ was sitting on. His captor. The wizard who had everyone in MACUSA convinced he was Percival Graves. 

It had been days, weeks perhaps since he had been overpowered by him, bound and gagged and then cast in the everlasting darkness of this place. Maybe he was dead and it was just his ghost that lingered somewhere in between. He exhaled and his breath felt like his own. He would have scowled at his own confusion, trying to clear his head, but he could not move. All he could do was breathe. And doubt in the ability of his aurors. They were good, exceptional even, but for all of their skill no one, not a single member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had suspected a thing.  The most dangerous dark wizard sat at the heart of the auror office of New York. And no one had noticed a thing.

It irritated him while at the same time filling him with a bone-chilling apprehension. They were underestimating the enemy.

While Percival lay there, bound tightly with magic and locked inside something small enough for the other wizard to carry it on his person. At all times. 

He had been there for everything which had transpired since the abduction. Each and every conversation, interrogation. 

Manipulation. 

He tasted bile on his tongue, bitter and burning, and his gullet made him swallow in reflex. He had heard every single conversation the other wizard had had with the Barebone boy. The boy Percival had promised Tina to keep an eye on after the Second Salemers debacle. It sickened him to even think of it. His fingers itched to curse the other wizard. He had promised Tina he would take care of it, try to help the boy. But instead. Instead, for all intents and purposes it was Graves himself who was using the boy, taking advantage of his easy trust, his need for human contact. He used him, ruthlessly manipulating him to gain knowledge on one of the orphans. 

An Obscurial, he reminded himself. Percival had no doubt that was what Grindelwald was on the lookout for. After the Brit’s deduction it had been an Obscurus that had killed the no-maj the pieces had fallen into place. The mysterious attacks around New York, the impostor-Graves’ insistence it was the doing of a magical beast, the search for an orphan amongst the Salemers. It all added up. 

And fuelled his rage. He was helpless, bound and caged while a dark wizard threatened to unravel all the work of centuries of MACUSA witches and wizards who protected the Wizarding Community. He needed to do something.

The door creaked open again, followed by the sound of footsteps. Three? Four pairs? The second chair scraped lightly on the floor. A shuffle of feet. Someone sat down.

“You’re an interesting man, Mr. Scamander.” the man who took his identity began.

“Mr. Graves” a woman’s voice interrupted him and Percival inhaled sharply. 

Tina? What was she doing here? 

She was no longer an auror, there was no reason for her to be in the interrogation room. Unless..

“You were thrown out of Hogwarts for endangering human life” Grindelwald interrupted Percival’s thoughts only to be interrupted in turn by the Brit who exclaimed

“That was an accident!” his voice was filled with vehemence but the dark wizard  _ was  _ true to Percival’s own temperament and continued to speak unperturbed.

Percival wondered, not for the first time just long had he been under scrutiny before he was abducted. The other wizard sometimes seemed eerily like an only slightly distorted reflection of Percival himself. The tone of his voice, the choice of his words, the subtle authority. 

The mention of Grindelwald’s name suddenly pulled his attention back to the conversation.

“I wonder what you can tell me about this, Mr. Scamander?” Percival’s voice asked

A sharp intake of breath - Tina, he was certain of it - then there was silence, heavy like the summer haze on the streets of New York. For the longest stretch of a moment nothing happened and Percival held his own breath, wondering what had Grindelwald shown them.. Just as he mulled over the fifth of various explanations, the Englishman’s voice - Scamander, Percival reminded himself - broke the silence.

“It’s an Obscurus.” he said, then quickly, almost frantically “But it’s not what you think. I managed to separate it from the Sudanese girl as I tried to save her - I wanted to take it home, to study it. But it cannot survive outside that box, it could not hurt anyone, Tina!”

“So it’s useless without the host?” Percival heard his voice ask, a tinge of genuine curiosity that made him push down the grim sense of satisfaction that arose at having correctly deduced the dark wizard’s intent.

“Useless?”  Scamander’s voice was nonplussed “Useless? That is a parasitical magical force that killed a child. What on earth would you use it for?”

There was startment in those words and Percival felt hope rise somewhere above the bile pooled in his stomach, above the rage, the loathing that filled him. Because Grindelwald had all but revealed himself. And Tina would deduce it with ease. She would realise it was not in Percival’s character to act in such way. They had worked enough years together on the force for her to know how deeply he loathed the Dark Arts. To know he would never wonder at the usefulness of an  _ Obscurus _ . 

She would know. After all, in spite of her occasional clumsiness, Tina Goldstein had been one of his most competent aurors. Certainly the most conscientious one. Until the Barebone incident, at least. And yet, for all that she had broken the law, Percival still could not fault her for acting the way she had. But the President had been adamant and he had lost a valuable asset.

And if he sometimes thought of her as far more than just an asset, that was something that never breached the walls of Occlumency he had long built around his mind.

“You fool nobody, Mr. Scamander.” Grindelwald said, his voice back to the authoritative timbre Percival was wont to use.

“You brought this Obscurus into the city of New York in hope of causing mass disruption” he trailed on “breaking the Statute of Secrecy and revealing the magical world...”

Scamander’s voice interrupted him

“You know that can’t hurt anyone, you know that!” he cried but Grindelwald continued undeterred and Percival felt a coil of anticipation tighten around his lungs.

“You are therefore guilty of a treasonous betrayal of your fellow wizards” he knew where the other wizard was going, and his anger flared “and are sentenced to death.”

He was going to execute, to  _ murder _ , an innocent wizard just to hide… Percival stopped in his tracks, his heart beating louder that any sound coming from beyond the darkness. If Grindelwald would sentence Scamander to death because he was a liability, then Tina…

“Miss Goldstein, who has aided and abetted you” he began and dread became a living thing, breaching beyond the confines of his flesh, seeping deep within his bones, choking him just as Scamander exclaimed

“No, she’s done nothing of the kind.”

“She receives the same sentence.”

No. A pained,  _ scared  _ gasp escaped Tina’s mouth. 

“Just do it immediately.” his voice continued “I will inform President Picquery myself.”

No.  _ No.  _ It was  _ wrong. _

“Tina.” Scamander said but Grindelwald shushed him. Then “Please”

And soon, too soon for Percival to do something, anything -  _ he cannot do anything! -  _ the metal door was creaking open. No. No.  _ No. _

He had to do  _ something _ . To stop this madness. He could hear the shuffle of feet as they dragged Tina and the other wizard away. Off to the Death Cell. He could not let that happen. He could not let them  _ kill her _ . Them. 

Percival could hear Grindelwald moving again, calm measured steps, while Tina and Scamander and the two guards faded into a sliver of sound. Then nothing. No. No, they could not do it. They could not! 

He had to do something,  _ anything _ . He was bound in darkness and his body was a limp mass of muscle and bone held upright by spells. But he could not let it happen. No. Any moment now the executioner would be seating her on the metal chair in the far corner of the Death Cell and Tina would slowly drown in the sizzle of the silvery potion. Tina would die. And Percival had to do something. If it had ever matter that he acted was now. He could not let it happen, not without a fight, not  _ ever _ . He could not let her die. 

She mattered.

His breath was coming in gasps. Percival had never been a man easily scared, but now he was terrified. He needed to stop it from happening. Because any moment now she could be drawing her final breath and it would be all his fault.

He thought about her, struggling to break free. He thought about her dark eyes, filled with determination as she disarmed wizards in the narrow alleys of Manhattan. The steel in her fingers as they whipped her wand, deflecting, attacking. Hands that had been soft on his own when she had pulled him bodily from under a pile of rubble last Yule. It had been a miserable evening for the aurors, and yet just one of many. And he thought about them all. All the time spent working on cases, supervising his aurors and always keeping an eye out for her. Spotting the small smile of relief when she handed the prisoners off. Or the larger smile she would give her sister when the other Goldstein would pass by. The one that would light up her face. And her laughter. The sound of her laughter. He had never made her laugh, no, but it was precious nonetheless. 

He thought about her as he struggled against the strong magic keeping him prisoner. He thought about all which will be lost,  _ if he doesn’t stop it.  _ And he had to. He had to stop it. Because she mattered, she mattered to him more than he would ever be willing to admit. 

She had to live.

He pushed against the bind, all but powerless. He gathered all his rage, all his  _ desperation _ fighting against the darkness which engulfed him. His memories ran free while he struggled. And there she was running through Central Park, her blazer flapping behind her. Leaning on a desk sipping a mug of coffee with a smile on her lips, hair all in disarray. He pushed against the barrier with all his strength, drawing it from the deepest recesses of his still motionless body. 

And then a nearly imperceptible sway.

His heart gave a lurch. He focused on that single motion, pushing with all his might while memories flooded him. A smear of dirt on her forehead after a duel, her fingers curled around a quill. The gasp of fear as Percival’s voice sentenced her to death. He felt the memories burn on the back of his throat like a gagged scream. And he  _ pushed _ . Harder. More and more as a tremor built into a force ever stronger. Until everything shook. The darkness, the emptiness, the sounds coming from beyond. 

He was breaking free. 

“What is this?” Grindelwald’s mutter was almost an afterthought in the storm that raged within him.

All was shaking, on the verge of rupture.

And then 

“Stupefy.” 

The cigarette case in his pocket stopped shaking. He took it out and grimaced, he had no time for this. He opened a drawer on a nearby desk and dropped it in, spelling it shut for good measure. It mattered little now. It would all come to a head soon enough.

He could feel it.


	2. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED 05/12/2016 - plotwise nothing changed, but since I'm an incurable perfectionist...
> 
> Thank you, you wonderful creatures for all the comments and the kudos. <3  
> And onwards now, with a plot-heavy chapter.

**** The rain was pouring. The loud rumble of thunder almost muffled by the frantic pitter-patter of raindrops on cobblestone. It swallowed the sounds of the city as the wizards and witches began fixing the damage the Obscurus had wreaked.  Tina listened to the rain drumming on the glass panes of the subway entrance, beating with insistence on the metal roof that sheltered them. She inhaled, feeling the smell of petrichor fill her nostrils. It lingered there, almost a shadow of the knot that was lodged in her throat. She pushed it back like she had done over and over in the past day. She had to keep herself together. Just a  bit more.

Breathing deeply the smell of dampness Tina looked at Jacob who was standing there, just a couple of feet away, getting soaked by the rain. He kept his eyes shut as drop by drop, every memory he had of the past two days was erased from his mind. Everything the four of them had been through together, the bond they had formed in such a  short span of time. All of it was being washed away. It was a sadness that tugged at her heartstrings. 

Tina had always been quick to form attachments - it was a shortcoming that had been pointed out at her more than once in the course of her career. And the no-maj had been no exception. With his exuberant smile and his gentle nature, Jacob Kowalski had gotten under her skin almost as quickly as the British wizard who stood beside her. She risked a glance at Newt. His eyes were red-rimmed and his freckled face was twisted in an inconsolable expression. Lowering her eyes she sighed, choosing to watch the rain fall around them and not look at the heartbreak on Newt’s face. On and on it kept falling, thick like a veil of oblivion. She could lose herself in the sound, letting it drown the too many emotions which lingered in her mind. She could lose herself in the moment and forget for an instant that her whole world had been shaken off its axis.

Suddenly she was torn from her thoughts by her sister who raised her wand and walked out into the rain. Before Tina had the time to wonder what was she doing, Queenie was pressing her lips to Jacob’s.

Tina averted her eyes, slightly embarrassed by the sight. And sad, incredibly sad. Because Queenie seemed to truly like the no-maj. The memory of the dinner they had shared at their apartment and the way Queenie had glown was still fresh in Tina’s mind. It had been a long time since Tina had seen her sister smile so widely, so sincerely. 

But it was all being taken away from her.

It was unfair. It was wrong. It was the law Tina had sworn to uphold the day she had become an auror.

It was also the last nail in the coffin of a thoroughly miserable day. 

She felt so raw, so exposed. And so, so tired. She had not slept and had barely eaten, and she had ran, fought, struggled to keep everyone safe. Tina was exhausted. She wanted nothing but to curl in her bed and rest. Rest without thinking about the past two days - about the flashes of the aurors’ spells cast on the Barebone boy, about the Death Cell and the gut-wrenching fear that had filled her whole body, about the no-maj car being hurled at her by Graves. Who had not been Graves, at all, but Grindelwald. She needed to stop thinking.

She couldn’t. It was all too fresh.

The feel of her sister’s hand on her arm drew Tina back from her thoughts. A heartbeat later the three of them were apparating back into the subway from whence they had emerged. Queenie was a picture of sadness, the glow in her gaze dulled, broken. And Newt, Newt didn’t even look at them, his eyes averted, and Tina sighed. 

It was a heavy sigh that held all the weight of the emotions she had bottled. It only took a step to wrap her arms around her sister’s slender form and hold tight. Queenie smelled of rubble and the floral perfume Tina had given her for her birthday. It was a teeth-jarring contrast that made her arms curl tighter around her sister. She wanted to tell her everything would be alright. That it could be fixed.

But some things could not.

So she deepened the embrace, telling her sister everything her lips could not utter. How she would always be there for her. How it had always been the two of them against the world and nothing, nothing could change that. How she would give anything to see her smile. It was the most precious sight in the world.

Queenie hid her head in the crook of Tina’s neck, her locks bouncing softly against Tina’s face. And for a moment they were girls again, trying to comfort each other in a world where they mom and pop were no more. For a moment time had wound back and there were no dark wizards, just a scary wide world and two young witches all on their own. Tina squeezed her tightly, feeling a lump in her throat.

And then, slowly, they both let go.

In the faint orange light of the subway Tina could see the tears in Queenie’s eyes and her locks standing all in disarray. But she looked more like herself now.

She glanced behind her and noticed Newt, who was standing there staring pensively at the now intact ceiling of the subway. His fingers were tapping lightly on the handle of his case. He seemed filled once again with the same restless energy that had been drained out of him by Jacob’s obliviation. Tina inhaled, steeling herself for more trouble to come.

“You think he  _ survived _ ?” Queenie suddenly exclaimed, disbelief clear in her voice and in the widening of her eyes.

Tina frowned, looking at her sister expectantly, and then at Newt who shuffled his feet.

“There was a wisp…” he began to reply and Tina straightened her back suddenly realising - or better  _ hoping _ , truly hoping - what, or better  _ whom  _ they were talking about.

“Credence might be alive?” she breathed with urgency, feeling her heart lurch into a quicker pace.

Could it be possible? Could the boy have survived? She found she desperately wanted it to be true. Of all the things which had gone wrong on that day, the death of Credence Barebone was certainly the worst. That poor abused boy. Those dark sad eyes. Her heart broke all over again just thinking about the flash of the auror’s spells as they tore him apart. But if Newt was right…

“I saw a wisp of the Obscurus float away.” he said, staring at that same spot in the ceiling, then, looking at her in the eye “He might be alive, but if that’s the case he will be severely hurt.”

There was worry, thick and urgent in Newt’s voice and Tina nodded.

“Let’s find him then.”

 

The wooden floor creaked under their feet, old but pristine, not a single trace left of the magical disaster which had taken place there just hours before. Tina looked around, pursing her lips. She remembered clearly the last time she had been in the Barebone household. It still filled her with anger. That woman, that vicious woman… Tina took a deep breath.

The place looked the same, dark wood and bare walls, and a forbidding darkness that clung to all corners. On the wall to her right hung the tapestry depicting a broken wand held above flames, the yellows and reds so violent in contrast with the barren walls of the rest of the room.

Newt and Queenie - who had insisted to tag along - were looking around with unease, taking in the narrow windows and the harshness of Mary Lou Barebone etched in each crevice of her home. Tina hoped she was right and Credence had gone back to the only home he had ever known. She hoped he was there, hiding somewhere and not adrift in the shadows of New York. It would be impossible to find him in a city this big. Not without alerting MACUSA. And Tina had absolutely no intention of doing that. She could feel the anger bubble once again in her chest when she remembered how they had attacked Credence.

“He is here.” Queenie whispered, wide-eyed and then, frowning “He is in pain.”

And suddenly they were moving faster, looking through the house, room after room. Opening doors and peering in dark corners. Up the stairs and more doors, and wardrobes until they reached a bedroom. By the look on Queenie’s face, Tina knew they were in the right place.

She opened the door gingerly, the tip of her wand illuminating a small attic room, empty save from a bed and a dresser. There was nothing on the walls, save from a cross hanging above the bed and a battered book on the pillow. The white sheets were pulled pristinely on the bed, not a single wrinkle on them. 

Tina entered the room fully, raising her wand to cast more light, when she saw it. Wrapped in a blanket, there was a figure sitting in the darkest corner of the room, hugging his knees. Tina could barely make the the dark hair sticking out of the rough brown fabric, but she had no doubt. They had found Credence Barebone.

He was alive.

 

Tina was filled with worry when she made her way to work the next morning. Newt had assured her the boy was likely to live and Queenie had just looked with pain in her gaze. Pain she had no doubt read in Credence’s mind. Tina had wanted to remain at home, but Queenie would be of more use with her Legilmency, and both sisters claiming sickness would have been suspicious. They could not afford to attract attention. Not when they were housing a runaway Obscurial in a case under Tina’s bed. 

She had just reached her floor, making her way towards the Wand Regulation Office when Abernathy intercepted her

“The Madam President requires your presence.” he said, fidgeting the way he always did when he had been dealing with his superiors. Tina wondered for a moment who had been sent down with the message, to get Abernathy so flustered. The wild thought that it could have been President Picquery herself crossed her mind, and Tina nearly snorted at the absurdity of the notion. She shook her head.

It was unexpected, but not odd. Not after the past few days.

“I’ll go see her now” she told Abernathy and the thin wizard gave an approving smile that had all the patronising quality of the man himself. 

The elevator ride was brief and yet Tina managed to wonder just which of the things she had done since arresting Newt could have warranted her a presidential summons. And how harsh would be the consequences. The fact they had not sent any of her former auror colleagues to arrest her, was promising. But with Seraphina Picquery one could never tell.

Tina felt a slight chill run up her spine as she remembered the day before. The hard floor under her knees and the auror arresting her. And then the interrogation, the sentence to death without a trial. The way Graves had not cared at all.

But that had not been him, she reminded herself.

The wizard who had treated her like less than dirt under his fingernails had not been Graves. It had been Grindelwald. And that knowledge did ease the knot of disappointment she had felt in the interrogation room - she plain refused to think of it as a sting of  _ betrayal, _ Graves owed her nothing and if there had always been something unique about their interactions, it did not give her the right to feel betrayed by his treatment of her. Nor by the sentence. 

Especially since it had not been Graves. It had been the most dangerous dark wizard of their day and age Polyjuiced to look like the Chief of Security. Strolling through MACUSA wearing Graves’ face for Merlin knew how long. If the initial shock at Newt’s revelation in the subway had given way to relief, that had been short-lived. Because deep inside her was a visceral worry for his fate that throbbed in tune with her heartbeats. She knew she had only set aside as the events of the day had kept unfolding. But now, now that she thought about it, Tina felt it with all its shrivelling strength. The dreadful thought that perhaps he was, that perhaps…

The bell chimed as Red the bellboy Goblin brought her to her destination and she took a deep breath. Squaring her shoulders Tina stepped off the elevator and onto the large corridor covered with a dark maroon carpet. The walls were bathed in a faint golden light which emanated from the carved stones and the brass decorations that lined them, leading her to a dark brown door that sported an elaborate eagle-shaped knob. Tina rapped twice. 

A moment later a very short and squat old witch was looking at her from above the rim of her reading spectacles. The glittering chain of the glasses swivelled on its own, out of tune with her motions as she ushered Tina in. 

“This way Miss Goldstein.” she told her, hurrying towards a door at the far end of the large office. 

Tina barely had the time to take notice of the numerous paintings of former Presidents which looked at her from the walls in curiosity, before she stepped inside Madam Picquery’s office. 

It was a large circular room, with large windows covering almost all walls. In one of them Tina could see a view of New York’s skyline, but the others were filled with a variety of views that went from a snowstorm in the night, to a bright blue sky in another, the view of thousands of city lights, the ocean in the distance, dark orange rock formations. On and on they went and Tina remembered reading that the President’s office windows were charmed to show a view of the places where the largest magical communities of the USA resided. She forced her attention away from what had to be a swamp in the Bayou, and focused it instead on the dark-skinned witch who sat behind the desk.

“Madam President.” she said in lieu of greeting, looking away with a feeling of awkwardness the other witch often inspired in her.

“Miss Goldstein.” the President replied in her usual cold demeanour, piercing her with her gaze “I will be curt. You are being reinstated to the position of auror in the Department of Major investigations. And I want you on the Grindelwald case.”

Tina blinked. She looked at the other witch in befuddlement. But before she had time to react, Picquery continued, folding her hands on the ornate desk.

“We have reason to believe Percival Graves is still alive, held hostage.” she told her with determination, and looked at her in the eye with all the authority of her position “Find him.”

Tina looked at her for a moment, certain her eyes were wide. Then she nodded, mind reeling. But she didn’t have time to deal with it now. 

Suddenly things very hectic once again.

And Tina had a case.

A very important case.

 

It was dark, imperscrutable and thick. Dark and silent. Was he dead at last? He could still control his breathing, but nothing more. It was dark and silent, and Percival didn’t understand. He inhaled the musty air. Then exhaled. And repeat. Over and over breathing and listening for a sound, any sound, to come from beyond the darkness.

It was strange.  _ He  _ felt strange, his mind confused, muddled like after waking from a Stunner. Like…

A Stunner. He had been stunned. 

All of a sudden the memories flooded back. The interrogation room, the British wizard,  _ Tina _ . She had been sentenced to death and Percival had nearly broken free.

Nearly.

His breath lodged in his throat.

Tina was dead.

It was dark. It was silent. He was not dead yet, but Tina was. Tina was dead. Grindelwald had sentenced her to death and Percival had been helpless. And Tina Goldstein who always smiled with her brown eyes, was dead.

Percival gazed into the darkness feeling swallowed by it as his breath still refused to leave his lungs. Tina was dead.

He had killed her.

He would pay.

  
  



	3. The Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Tina-centric chapter. I pinky promise more Graves in the next one.

It was a grim Thursday morning, the clouds gathering thick above the Woolworth Building with a promise of rain and perhaps even snow. The early winter air had been frosty when Tina had left the apartment after breakfast and her breath had condensed in a thin white mist. The magical rain which had obliviated the no-majs had brought a wave of cold with it that reminded her Yule was less than a fortnight away.

Tina tore her eyes from the clouds that moved in swirls of grey and charcoal beyond the charmed window panes of the Auror Department windows and made her way fully into the large airy room. Brightly illuminated by dozens of charmed desk-lights the Main Office was filled with tired looking aurors. Waxen faces and dark circles around the eyes a testament of the rough couple of days everyone in the Magical Law Enforcement had had. Everyone in the Magical Congress in fact. They had been a hairbreadth away from being exposed to the non-magicals and the work to salvage the situation had been gargantuan.

And yet, beyond the exhaustion which was plain on the faces of her newfound colleagues, Tina sensed a tension in the air that had nothing to do with it. And everything to do with the case she had been assigned. In the looks of the aurors she passed by she could see the barely contained urge to act, to whip out their wands and duel their way out of this situation. 

But they were dealing with a different conundrum. With a case that required patience and no small amount of luck - if what the two aurors who had briefed her the day before was all they could come up with. 

They had spent the better part of the day in the Major Investigation Department before going down to the cells. Tina had wanted to take a proper look at the wizard who had caused so much mayhem, but when the auror who had been temporarily in charge of the case - Lopez if she remembered correctly - had asked her if she wanted to interrogate Grindelwald, Tina had declined. She had needed to do her homework first.

And she had, barely sleeping the night before, as she had gone over all the files they had on the Grindelwald case. Pages and pages of scribbled notes on parchment, photographs, drawings, newspaper clipping. It was a lot of material and yet at the end of the day - or rather,  at the end of the night, it lacked any possible leads. 

Tina sighed, feeling the beginning of a headache creep up her temples. She was tired, but this was just the beginning. 

Steeling herself she made her way through the room, nodding at some of the people she knew and hurried to her own desk. Or at least the desk which had used to be hers before the Barebone incident, since to her surprise it appeared to now house a young auror with a pair of thick eyebrows which were furrowed in confusion at her. She gaped for a moment, then getting her bearings

“Um, I am sorry, could you point me to my desk?” she asked him, trying to smile, but rather certain it had come out as a grimace, then at his silent blink she added “My name is Tina Goldstein”

“The auror in charge of the Graves case?” the young wizard croaked, eyes wide and Tina gave a small nod. 

Suddenly he was a flurry of movement.

“I’m, I’m sorry ma’am I’ll show you to your office.” he half stuttered, jumping to his feet  “Right this way, we go. Follow me, please”

He moved around the desk, briskly walking towards the back of the room and Tina followed him in a daze. Office? Why would she need an office.

“I’m so honoured to meet you ma’am.” the wizard said, looking behind his shoulder at her and Tina frowned “I was wondering when will you be heading down to the Department. I've been hearing about you the whole afternoon yesterday”

TIna frowned, shaking her head.

“Are you sure you’re not confusing me with someone else?” she asked as they reached a corridor that led to the senior auror offices, but the olive skinned wizard kept chattering about his excitement for meeting her and her question went unheard.

Tina was about to enquire further when they stopped in front of a door.

Tina blinked.

Then blinked again, but the brass sign read in clear black letters

_ Porpentina E. Goldstein, Chief Auror  _

This must be a mistake. The President had told her she was being reinstated as an auror. There had been no mention of her being chief of anything. And yet, unless there was another Porpentina Goldstein working for MACUSA, it had to be her office. 

The young auror stood expectantly beside her and Tina gave him a weak smile, turning the knob. The door swung open at her touch, the lights flickering on. She stood for a moment on the doorway, taking in the modestly furnished office with a charmed window that offered a view of the busy streets of Manhattan. The auror shuffled beside her and Tina turned to him

“Thank you.” she said, trying to mask her befuddlement at the whole situation “I’ll see you around, mister…”

“Rooke” he said automatically “Leopold Rooke”

Tina smiled, more sincerely now and nodded, walking into her office and closing the door. She walked to her desk and set her leather bag atop it, fishing out the thick files she had been poring over the whole night. She would have to deal with her confusion later. She had work to do. And time was of the essence.

 

Three days later, Tina was pacing the length of her office, trying to find a lead, a pattern, something, anything which could move the investigation from the moot point it had reached. A repeated interrogation of the dark wizard they had in custody had been nothing but a source of frustration for Tina, who felt like he was just toying with them, biding his time. And the search through Grindelwald’s belongings had been another dead-end. The wizard had carried Graves’ usual usual belongings, his wand, his keys and his wallet. Nothing else had been found in the various pockets, nothing that could point them in a direction. The only item out of ordinary was a flask filled with Polyjuice Potion, which had been sent to the Alchemy Office for analysis.

Graves’ apartment had also been searched, the day before she had been reinstated as an auror, and her colleagues had found nothing amiss, no trace of any magical disturbance. No trace of Graves either.

Tina sighed, rubbing her temples. She was at wits’ end. Most of the Auror Department had been dispatched around the city, instructed to follow any leads they could find, to talk with all of their informants, but Tina knew it would take more than luck to find their Director like this. And in the meanwhile Graves could be injured, dying even. 

Frustration mingled with worry and she began to feel the walls of her office close in on her. She needed to be on the move, she needed to  _ do  _ something. Pacing through the room would not solve this case. No, she needed to get out of here and go down on the streets. Perhaps take another look at Graves' apartment. And if that didn’t bring her any ideas, she would go and talk to Gellert Grindelwald once again. 

A flick of her wand later she exited her office clad in her blazer and hat. She hurried down the corridor and through the main room, nodding at the young wizard who had welcomed her two days before. He gave her a wide grin and she found herself smiling in spite of the knot of apprehension that had been permanently lodged in her stomach in the past few days. 

Her sister had been all worried glances ever since she had returned home four days before with her case. She hadn’t said anything, but Tina knew Queenie could sense the overwhelming mixture of emotions that were swirling inside her. Everything felt like it was spinning out of control. Just a week ago she had been working at the Wand Regulation Office, living a life of dullness unseen and all of a sudden she had found herself chasing magical creatures around New York, duelling with dark wizards, temporarily giving shelter to a British wizard and a barely conscious Obscurial on the run from MACUSA and now she was Chief Auror in charge of an investigation on the disappearance of Percival Graves. 

Tina didn’t want to even start pondering how the latter made her feel, as the gaping emptiness of worry was just too much to bear.

She shook her head as she made her way through the lobby and out of the Woolworth Building, hurrying to an alley nearby. Tina cast a quick look around to be sure there were no no-majs around. And then she apparated. 

 

Percival Graves’ apartment was like the man himself, neat, organised and with a mixture of forbidding and approachable that spelled authority. Tina stood in the middle of his living room, taking in the space. There was a grey striped sofa to her right with a pair of armchairs that flanked a dark wood coffee table, an old issue of the New York Ghost haphazardly thrown atop of it. The opposite wall had a large fireplace decorated with a pair of framed photographs of what had to be Graves’ parents, judging by their looks. Beside it was a large bookcase filled with various tomes, from history to legislation, to potions and healing magic, all sorted by topic. She touched the ridges with her fingers as she made her way towards the sash window. It looked at the red-bricked building in front and if she craned her neck she could see a bit of sky above the rooftop. It was very much like Graves to not charm it to show something more pleasant, even though it was more than common for the wizards and witches in New York to do so. 

Letting the thin white curtain fall back Tina moved to the other rooms, noticing all the small details that made it Graves’ home. The pristinely tucked blankets on the bed, the neatly organised wardrobe, with dozens of suits hanging perfectly ironed on their hangers.

They were mostly identical, but Tina recognised some, like the grey pin-striped one he had worn for his promotion to Director of Magical Security two years before. They had thrown him a party in the Auror Department and the usually aloof wizard had indulged them for once, enjoying himself. She remembered the way he had smiled the whole evening, looking more the age he was than the decade more his stern expression often added. That night Tina had returned home with a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach and Queenie had looked at her knowingly. But fancies came as fancies went. And if she had spent a bit too much time replaying his expression when he had been gifted the cigarette case with the Magical Law Enforcement symbol engraved on the front, well that was no one’s business but her own. 

She shook her head, closing the wardrobe. The gift had been her idea, after spotting Graves smoking leaned on the wall of the alley they used as regular apparition spot. And her idea had been a good one since the wizard had taken to carrying it on his person at all times along with the few usual effects. It made something warm curl inside her at the thought, even though it had been a joint gift from the whole Department.

Shaking her head Tina exited the bedroom and made her way to the kitchen. She pushed the wooden door open and stepped into the small but perfectly tidy kitchenette. And then she stopped in her tracks, feeling her eyes widen.

It hadn’t been there.

She remembered the list by heart already, the hurried spidery handwriting. There had been no cigarette case amongst the personal items found on the Grindelwald upon arrest. And Graves had always carried it with him. She whipped out her wand 

“ _ Accio  _ cigarette case” 

The rattle of metal against wood came from the living room. And a moment later two battered looking cigarette cases were flying towards her. But none of them had the triangle and eye engraved on the front.

Her breath hitched in her throat. It could be nothing, but Tina had a hunch. It was the first thing out of the ordinary in this case, it couldn’t be a coincidence the cigarette case was missing.

Feeling her heart beat faster, she quickly left the apartment and apparated back to the alley near the MACUSA Headquarters.

 

Fifteen minutes later every auror available was instructed to find the cigarette case, to the nonplussed expression of most of her colleagues. But Tina found that her newfound position allowed her to give orders without having her sanity being directly questioned all the time. It was refreshing.

As her colleagues hurried to follow her orders in a flurry of leather coats, Tina went back to her office feeling a buzz of energy coursing through her limbs. She scattered the parchments on her desk and began looking at them once again looking for any clue at the whereabouts of the cigarette case. 

Finally something was moving, even though it could end up being only a wild theory. And yet, Tina had a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach this  _ could  _ be the key to finding Graves. Whether the cigarette case had been turned into a portkey or it had been magically engorged to accommodate a hostage, she couldn’t tell. And there were also other, wilder hypotheses - anything was possible with a wizard so ruthless as Grindelwald. But they had to find it before it was too late. 

She smothered the tiny voice in the back of her head that feared the worst had already come to pass and Graves had already been killed. She had successfully managed to ignore it for the past four days and now that things were in motion, she could afford no distractions. 

As Newt had put it the other day, there was no use worrying, it only made them suffer twice.

She exhaled and sat down. She  _ would  _ find him.

 


	4. The Search

It was nearing midnight. A fierce wind was blowing on the nearly empty streets of Manhattan. It rattled the windows and lifted the clutter off the pavement, whipping it in all directions. The few passers by were hugging their coats to their bodies and Tina did the same while she walked away from the Woolworth building. Inconspicuously she cast a wordless warming charm to ward off some of the chill, but by the time she apparated in an alley a block away from her tenement, she could barely feel her cheeks. She hurried towards her home, holding her hat with one hand while the wind tried to pull it away. Her lips were chapped and her fingers numb, and Tina was too tired to deal with the weather atop of everything else. She swung the door of the tenement open, careful to not make any sounds. Rubbing her hands, she tiptoed up the stairs. 

Mrs. Esposito must had been asleep, because for once the woman had not inquired whether Tina had come home alone. It was the second time this year, the first one being in February when the landlady had gotten down with the flu. Reaching her landing she silently unlocked the apartment door and clicked it shut with a sigh of exhaustion.

The fire had died down to embers and the only sound in the sleeping apartment was the soft clinking of the knitting needles Queenie had charmed to knit a magenta scarf. She took off her coat and floated it to the peg on the wall along with her hat. Tiredness was a living thing, settled deep within her bones. Tina had not been home in nearly four days, swinging by the apartment only to see Newt and Credence to the docks. 

She sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Standing there by the gangplank and saying their goodbyes had felt like having a chunk of her heart ripped away. Newt had been reluctant to go, his magical case tightly gripped in his hand. But New York was not safe for Credence, who had not left the case since they had found him. They had had to leave. It was only Newt’s promise to return to New York to give her a copy of his book once finished that had kept the sadness somewhat at bay. 

For all of her penchant of getting attached to people, there were not many she could call friends. And fewer still who had the caring nature of Newt Scamander. He had taken it upon himself to help Credence without a second of hesitation after helping them capture Grindelwald and manage the largest breach of the International Statute of Secrecy of the past century and a half. Newt was an exceptional wizard and she wished he could have stayed longer. But Tina cared for Credence’s safety. At the end of the day she was glad they had left. It was for the better.

That had been yesterday morning, she recalled with a tired yawn. Her muscles protested as she stretched, feeling her joints pop loudly. 

She was well beyond exhaustion, and if it hadn’t been for the ache in her neck after sleeping a couple of fitful hours in her office chair, Tina would have pulled another all-nighter at the Auror Department. But she was no use to the case if she could not concentrate enough to read, let alone cast an efficient  _ Accio _ to try and summon the cigarette case she had the whole department looking for. Ever since the Alchemy report had floated to her desk two days prior, Tina had not stopped for a moment. She had read and reread the brief report until she had learned it by heart. It stated that the Polyjuice potion Grindelwald had been using had been relatively fresh, and that the level of degradation of the hair contained in it narrowed it down to a month, give or take. So Tina had formed a four auror team to try and reconstruct the dark wizards movements while the rest of the department had begun a systematic search of the Woolworth building. 

Tina rubbed her eyes again. She needed to get some sleep and there was no room for parley. The night shift would continue going over all the places the faux Graves had been in the past weeks, and periodically cast the Summoning charm like they had been instructed. And she needed to rest.

She eyed the bedroom sliding doors for the longest time, feeling reluctance in the pit of her stomach. Then she shook her head, opening the doors a smidge. The soft sound of Queenie’s breathing made her lips curve in a brief smile. With a flick of her wand Tina charmed her garments off and felt the soft fabric of her striped pyjamas float out of the bedroom and fall on her shoulders. The bottoms trailed up her legs while the top buttoned itself. Her slippered feet made no sound as she made her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. 

The light flickered on with a faint buzz and Tina shut the door. She looked at the mirror above the sink. Her reflection stared back at her. And the brief respite she had felt upon coming home vanished at the sight. 

She looked ghoulish.

Tina could see every worry and frustration etched in the dark circles that shadowed her eyes. Every failed lead, every hour spent poring over and over the same parchments looking for a clue, and every empty Summoning spell, worded and wordless, barren. She could see it all in the sickly glow of her waxen skin and in the way her hair fell on the sides of her face, limp and brittle. She could see it and she could feel it. The weight of the responsibility which had been placed on her shoulders. But also the petrifying fear that they might find Graves too late. That they might fail him.

She closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the sink. Her nails pushed against the cold ceramic while she breathed a steadying breath. She needed to get a grip of herself. Worry would get her nowhere. It would not help them find Graves.

Nor would exhaustion.

Opening her eyes, she grabbed her toothbrush.

She needed to sleep. And tomorrow, tomorrow she would continue her search. 

Until they found him.

 

The click of heels echoed in the empty sublevel, duly followed by the dull sound of Rooke’s footsteps on the worn stone. Senior Auror Claire Costanza strode purposefully towards the old Administrative Office of the Detainment Area. There was a faint light falling on the desks and cabinets which had been in disuse for the past year. Before the restructuration it had used to house a pair of secretaries whose job had been to manage all the paperwork involving the Protocol for Detainee Management. But one of Mr. Graves’ first tasks as Director of Magical Security had been to push for a simplification of the procedure. It had taken a while, but the amendment had been eventually passed and the two witches had been  reassigned to the Typing Pool. 

While it had made everything easier in their day to day business with prisoners, Costanza missed the sunny smile Beryl would flash her when she signed the paperwork - or the way her dark skin would conceal her blush whenever Costanza threw a wink at her. The auror guessed she’d have to finally man up and ask the other witch out. If this whole Graves debacle had taught her anything, was that nothing could be taken for granted. Especially time.

Which was trickling for their Director. Costanza knew, like everyone on the Department, that every day that passed significantly shrunk the odds of finding him alive. 

She slowed down when Rooke and her reached the former Administrative Office. Costanza whipped her wand out and picturing the cigarette case they had given the Director for his promotion, cast a wordless  _ Accio _ .

She had done it so many times in the past few days. Cast and wait for a moment while nothing happened. Then put the wand away and move to the next spot. The motion had become natural like apparition. 

So when the sound of rattling metal reached her ears, Costanza felt her spine straighten in startlement.

It was faint, muffled. She followed it, perking her ears and whipping her wand about, opening drawers and cabinets while Rooke followed her suit. Papers flew around and dust lifted from the surfaces, but they paid no attention to it. Then Costanza pointed her wand towards the topmost drawer of Beryl’s old desk. And it did not budge. Flicking her wrist with determination she cast an Unlocking charm. 

It opened. And a silvery metal case flew out.

Costanza held her hand out, watching wide-eyed as her fingers curled around the case before she gingerly placed it on the floor. A detection spell later, Costanza had not doubt.

They had found Percival Graves.

 

He was lost. He could not tell where darkness ended and silence begun. All he could feel was the rhythmic rise and fall of his breaths. He counted the passing of time, the way it bent backwards and forward. The way his mind would lose its way in the meanders of memory only to take a sharp turn and veer towards the gaping emptiness lodged under his sternum. Towards the blind rage that shook him when he thought of what was lost. 

Somewhere in the endless loop of oblivion Percival knew he could easily lose his mind. He had to be careful. He had been trained to sustain prolonged imprisonment. He knew what he had to do. 

He also knew Tina was dead. And Grindelwald had killed her.

It was a knowledge that ripped him in half, torn between an emptiness that threatened to swallow him and the burning urge to avenge her. To make him pay for taking her away from him.

_ She had not been his, though.  _ No, she hadn’t. But she had been alive and breathing, laughing, frowning, running down the streets of New York and casting spells. She had been dark hair tucked behind her ear while she chewed her lip in concentration and warm brown eyes that would greet her sister with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. She had been alive.

She no longer was.

Silence and darkness were one and Percival did not care whether one ended and the other one begun. He only wanted to get out of there and curse Gellert Grindelwald until the blond wizard had been wiped away from the face of Earth. Until he was as dead as Tina was. 

Percival had never been tempted to use an Unspeakable, but for Grindelwald he would use two. Because he  _ would  _ make him suffer. He would. 

In the silence of his prison, Percival did not care he would severely break the law he had so vehemently upheld. He did not care he would be using the Dark Magic he had always so abhorred. He did not see the lifeless eyes of his parents when they had been murdered  many years before. He did not imagine the green light that had taken them away from him when he had been in his last year of school. He did not see the bright sun that had mockingly shone the day of their funeral, nor did he feel the righteous anger which had led him to enroll in the Auror Training Program that very week. In the darkness and silence of his prison, Percival only felt the scorching rage that burned and burned and burned. Because Grindelwald had taken his life from him, his face from him. But above it all he had taken Tina’s life. And that, that was  more than Percival was ready to endure. 

He would pay. And Percival would not hold a single curse back. 

It was dark, it was silent and Tina was dead.

Then suddenly, the silence was broken by a deafening sound. The walls of his prison began to shake while the booming noise filled his ears. His heart raced. He could feel each hit reverberate in his body, strong like an earthquake. Again and again and again.

And then it stopped. Suddenly like it had begun, the thudding stopped.

It was dark, it was silent. Again.

And then it was not.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested, [Beryl](http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Beryl) is an actual character:  
> And Costanza is the name I gave to the auror in the middle [ of this picture ](http://static.srcdn.com/wp-content/uploads/Fantastic-Beasts-Seraphina.jpg). The one on the right is Lopez (mentioned in chapter 3).


	5. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slightly longer chapter to apologise for being evil. *grins*

The alley was dark. Wedged between two tall tenements, it was filled with litter that crunched under Tina’s shoes as she made her way through it. A gust of wind rattled the fire escape stairs above her and she shook her head, buttoning her coat with a flick of her wand. She hurried out of the alley and into Park Place Street. It was half past five in the morning, and the usually busy Broadway street was empty save from the few early risers and factory workers who tucked their noses in their scarves. As she strode across the cobblestone Tina felt the winter chill seep through her clothes and curl around her limbs, still warm from sleep.

She had been shaken awake by Queenie, throwing her covers off with alarm. Padding barefoot towards the fireplace Tina had taken the urgent Floo call and five minutes later she had been running down the stairs of tenement, Mrs.Esposito’s startled shouts following her as she had bolted into the street. Tina hadn’t cared one bit about her landlady in that moment. All she could think of was finding the nearest alley and apparate.

They had found Graves.

And he was alive.

She remembered her lungs seizing at the news and how, for the longest heartbeat, Tina had held her breath until the young auror in her fireplace had told her Graves was being checked in the Hospital Ward. They had not found a corpse. Her shoulders had sagged in relief and she had been too distracted to pay close attention to the rest of the briefing.

She had not processed it in the heat of the moment, but as she hurried towards the Headquarters, Tina took a moment to ponder the informations. Auror Lewis had told her the they had found Graves magically bound within the expanded cigarette case they had been looking for. Aurors Costanza and Rooke had discovered it in one of the disused desks of the Detainment Area. Not far from the Interrogation Cell where Tina and Newt had been brought to, a fortnight before. Where Grindelwald had sentenced them to death.

Her hat threatened to fly away and Tina grabbed the hem with her gloved hand. Squaring her shoulders Tina pushed down the memories that had arisen while she suppressed a shudder that had nothing to do with the frosty air.

The sound of her footsteps on the cobblestone was muffled by the wailing of the wind and in her mind she could still recall the sizzling of the silvery potion around her, the metal chair melting under her feet. And her leap into the unknown. Her heart beat faster, almost in tune with her strides. She had been terribly close to dying in the Death Cell. Both her and Newt. It had been sheer luck. And the thought was, like always, too overwhelming.

She shook her head, frowning. They could have died. But they didn’t. They had made it. All had worked out in the end.

They were all alive.

And so was Graves. In spite of the odds which had grown less and less in their favour, they had found him. Bruised, battered, malnourished, as the auror had described him. But alive. Graves was alive. Tina felt all the tension of the past two weeks seep away in the cold New York morning. And any tiredness she might had felt at being awoken after barely four hours of sleep had vanished.

They had found him.

Tina hurried her steps towards the Woolworth Building and discreetly waved her wand under the eagle perched above the entrance. She strode through the charmed doors just as a strong gust of wind pulled at her coat lapels. The doorman eyed her tiredly, nodding in her direction with a stifled yawn. Tina greeted him breathlessly as she stepped inside the lobby.

It was nearing the end of the night shift and the atrium of the Woolworth building was nearly empty. A few mops were moving lazily on the polished floor and the Billy the House-Elf was readying his wand-polishing tools. The golden light of the charmed lamps reflected off the brass decorations, stark in contrast with the darkness of the sky beyond the glass panes. Tina strode up the stairs, passing a pair of young witches from the Obliviator squad who were yawning their way to the elevator. Red was just closing the doors when Tina reached the landing. Waving him to wait for her, she made a dash towards him. The Goblin grunted something, but he opened the doors to let her in. She breathed a thank you, stepping in.

“Hospital Ward.” she told him, taking off her hat and trying to compose herself and Red muttered something in reply.

She had been in such a hurry she didn’t notice the other occupant of the elevator until she heard Abernathy’s prim voice

“Good morning Miss Goldstein.” Tina whipped her head towards her former boss.

“Quite early in to work.” he commented with his usual poise.

“Oh, Mr. Abernathy.” she fumbled, then regaining her manners “Good morning.”

“Yes, Urgent Floo call.” she added awkwardly, staring at the countless floors they passed.

The uncomfortable silence they lapsed in was familiar. And once they reached his floor Abernathy gave her a polite, albeit condescending nod, and stepped out of the elevator. He walked off with his customary pompousness while Red rattled the elevator doors closed and pushed the button to get them to the Hospital Ward.

Tina exhaled.

 

The sky was covered in darkness above the flat rooftops of the city. The faint light of the streetlamps barely reached them, swallowed by the winter night. The moon must had disappeared beyond the horizon and in the deep blackness of the predawn hours New York seemed almost eerily peaceful. Percival dragged his gaze away from the charmed window of the hospital room, and back to the blindingly white walls and the equally white tiles on the floor. The air smelled faintly of potions and he curled his nose in distaste. He had never been fond of hospitals and after interminable weeks of darkness and, later, silence, the Hospital Ward was making him antsy. It was all too bright, too loud. Too crowded.

He exhaled through his nose.

Percival knew, rationally that it was a normal reaction to prolonged imprisonment and sensory deprivation. After a decade and a half on the force, he knew the toll it took. He had seen it on other aurors, and like all of them he had been trained to sustain it. To manage it.

Even when the darkest wizard of their day and age carried him in his pocket while he impersonated him. While he destroyed everything Percival had fought to preserve. Their safety. Their secrecy. Their world.

While he took away everything from him.

He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. He could not lose control over himself.

He counted his heartbeats until they grew slower and his breaths evened. Opening his eyes he gazed at the trite painting of an Umbrella Flower that hung on the wall to his left.

It was hard to suddenly _feel_ so much, when all he had felt for the longest time had been the harsh grip of despair and a rage that had sizzled in his veins. The freedom to move his limbs as he pleased felt strange, alien almost. And his voice. Hearing his own voice, broken and hoarse.

His throat felt parched and Percival extended a slightly shaky hand towards the glass of water one of the nurses had put on the bedside table. To have his magic so weakened he could not float it wandlessly felt like betrayal. But it was normal, he reminded himself not without bitterness, swallowing down the frustration along with a gulp of cold water.

He had been subjected to a variety of spells both light and dark, enough to keep him contained for weeks. It had taken four aurors to free him from the bindings Grindelwald had put him under. He had tumbled out of the case on his knees, unable to hold himself upright, but determined to find the dark wizard and _destroy_ him. Hearing Grindelwald had been arrested and was being held in custody had made him calm down enough for Claire Costanza  to try to levitate him to the Hospital Ward. But Percival’s perplexed glare must had been clear enough, because the witch had lowered her wand with a muttered apology and offered a shoulder instead. It had been more than a strain on his numb muscles, but he had walked into the Hospital Ward on his own two feet, causing quite a stir in the somewhat drowsy Night Shift.

He drank more water, feeling it slide with more ease down his throat.

There was a tiredness curling over his shoulders that grew heavier and heavier as the clicking of heels in the corridor outside grew louder and the lights kept flickering above him, sterile white. He blinked twice, rubbing his temples. It was tempting to lay his head down on the thin pillow and give in to the tendrils of sleep that pulled at the edges of his vision. To let exhaustion take over him. The nurses had tried to dose him Dreamless Sleep but he had flat out refused them.

They had Gellert Grindelwald in custody. Five floors underneath him, the dark wizard was held in a small metal cell awaiting trial. Percival had spent so long wishing for a chance to make the wizard who had taken everything from him pay. He had spent days, weeks, thinking, wishing, _hating_ him. He, who had taken Percival’s identity, all but his life. _Who had killed Tina._

Percival had always believed in the justice system. But it was enough to remember her gasp of fear in the Interrogation Room for his anger to flare back from the embers. What justice could be found in punishing the wizard who had infiltrated the Magical Congress, and wreaked havoc of magnitude unknown to him, who had killed an innocent wizard and one of his best aurors? Who had killed Tina.

What justice could be found in an execution, mercifully eased by the reliving of pleasant memories? What justice could be found when some things had been irreversibly lost?

There might had been a time when he would have wondered why he cared so much, but it no longer mattered. Because the rage, the rage that had been his sole companion for weeks and which had sustained him in the long days of silence after Grindelwald had discarded him, the rage was a part of him. And it demanded retribution. It demanded revenge. It demanded to exact the same pain, the same grief that pulsed through his veins.

It was a strain to push himself up, but he dug his nails in the grey blanket they had covered him with and bit by bit he dragged his legs off the side of the bed. His whole body felt leaden. His bare feet landed on the cold floor tiles, and it took him a moment to regain his balance as the room swayed in front of his eyes.

He clenched his fists as the walls settled back. His whole life had been upended. It was time he regained control. It was time to settle the score.

It would not bring the dead back. That, he knew well. He still remembered.

But it would bring solace. With time.

He straightened his back and took a tentative step forward. His legs protested, but Percival was nothing if not a determined man. He did not care how long it took. He would not sit idly and wait, loitering about in a hospital room. Not when Grindelwald was so close.

He was halfway between the bed and the door when the latter swung open.

Seraphina Picquery strolled into the room with a look of displeasure on her sharp visage.

“I believe you were told to rest.” her voice was halfway between a snarl and a reprimand.

Feeling like a schoolboy being scolded, Percival glared.

“I think I rested enough.” he croaked in reply, stifling a wince at how hoarse his voice sounded, but not budging under the strain of standing upright.

“Percy” she began, stepping inside the room while the door closed behind her. “Be reasonable.”

He wanted to argue, but he had learned over the many years he had known her how futile it was when she used that tone. Her cold expression only partially concealed the look of relief in her eyes. When she angled her head Percival merely squared his jaw and slowly walked back towards the bed.

The mattress creaked under him as he sat down. Seraphina followed him and sat cross-legged on the simple chair that was placed nearby. Her hands were clasped on her lap above her dark blue robes. and Percival could read the tension in her knuckles.

She eyed him silently for a moment, dark eyes assessing.

“I’m glad you are alive, Percy.” she told him after a while.

Her voice was even but he could hear a hint of relief, that had his eyebrows rising while an ominous feeling settled in his gut. What had Grindelwald left in his wake to have the usually emotionless witch so unsettled? He felt curiosity and apprehension overtake the crucible of rage that burned inside him.

“What is going on, Phina?” he asked evenly “You are worried. You are never worried.”

She pursed her lips nearly imperceptibly.

“As you well may know, Grindelwald has assumed your role for a yet undefined amount of time…”

“November 12th.” he interrupted her “I was abducted on the 12th of November”

“Less than a month then.” she murmured, mostly to herself, then regaining her steel “You understand this is an unprecedented breach of security? And we have yet to discover how wide it had spread.”

Her eyes spoke volumes and Percival understood her words for all that he hated them.

“He did not work alone.” he said flatly and she nodded “Any suspects?”

“None yet.” she replied “We had all the Department looking for you.”

He nodded in understanding.

“Now that we have you back we’ll direct our investigations in that direction” the President said and then she added

“Which reminds me, we'll need you to give a statement. Goldstein is waiting outside.”

“Goldstein?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Yes. I had no choice but to give her the case” she said with a quirk of displeasure on her lips “She was the only one above suspicion in your Department. Trust me Percy, I was not happy to make Tina Goldstein Chief Auror.”

Percival stared at her. Holding his breath.

“I thought you’d be glad.” she told him with a nearly imperceptible quirk of her eyebrow, misunderstanding his silence “You _had_ advocated against her demotion”

Percival exhaled slowly, trying to school his expression.

Tina, Tina was alive.  

Somehow, by some twist of fate she was alive.

His heart beat loudly in his ears. Seraphina had ignored his silence and trailed on, explaining how Grindelwald must had had assistance and how as far as the President was concerned everyone in MACUSA was potentially a suspect, but Percival barely managed to follow. Tina was alive. She was somewhere, breathing, moving, feeling. Alive.

Percival felt like the fight had been drained out of him in the wake of relief. His shoulders sagged and he found his weight shifting to his hands.

Suddenly Seraphina’s voice trailed to a stop.

“I can tell Goldstein to come later…” she said

“No.” he replied, too quickly perhaps because the witch inclined her head slightly in bemusement

“No, I’ll do it now.” he repeated “It’s protocol, after all.”

The dark-skinned witch did not looked convinced, but she nodded nonetheless.

“Fine.” she said, standing up from her seat “We’ll adjourn, then.”

He nodded in agreement while she glided out of the room. The door remained open behind her.

 


	6. The Turning Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, you wonderful creatures for all your love and support! It makes my heart burst with joy every time I read one your comments. <3
> 
> Now that I'm done gushing, have some Percy and Tina. And some plot-twists.

The corridor was almost empty. It was still very early, and the only sound in the pleasantly warm air of the Hospital Ward was the clicking of heels that every now and then drifted towards the bench Tina sat on as nurses went about their tasks. Tina knew that soon the Healers would go on their morning rounds and the silence would be broken by the hustle and bustle of patients complaining, Healers muttering enchantments, and potion vials clinking on their trays. Tina had spent more than one night in the Ward over the years and she was somewhat used to the place. Curses, rampant creatures, buildings crumbling atop of her. Queenie had often worried, but Tina had never paid too much attention to it. Injuries came and went. They were not pleasant, but she knew what she had signed up for the day she had enrolled. They were part of the job.

The clock on the wall ticked almost imperceptibly and she glanced at it. Six o’clock. She had been sitting there for nearly half an hour. It felt longer. She was restless, and the silence of the hallway did little to calm her nerves. Time seemed to drag infinitely while she sat waiting. The President was inside the hospital room Graves had been assigned to and Tina could only gaze at the small yellow tiles on the wall ahead while she fought the strange mixture of emotions that had taken hold of her. 

She fidgeted with the hem of her hat as it rested on lap, glancing at the cardboard folder that lay on the bench near her. Costanza had been waiting in the Hospital Ward to hand it personally to Tina, nodding before she had stridden away. The folder contained the initial report the witch had written after finding Graves and bringing the Director to the Hospital Ward. Tina had read it promptly, but it contained very little she hadn’t already known. Accounts on the spells used to free Graves. A note that stated the cigarette case had been sent to the Dark Spell Detection And Magical Analysis Office to see what kind of spells the dark wizard had used, and to identify any lingering magical traces. Amidst the parchments were also the Healer’s accounts, scribbled hastily on a piece of parchment. Tina suspected Costanza had pressured them to do it immediately rather than have them take their time like they usually did. 

It appeared no lasting damage had been done, but according to the Healer on duty, Graves carried traces of strong dark spells and his own magic was severely drained. The account went on listing the various observations the Healer had made in his diagnostics, painting a picture Tina had found hard to read without a diapason of emotions flickering inside her. 

She wanted to see him. She needed to see him. To get his statement, which would likely the most important piece of evidence in the case. To find out how long he had been held captive. 

Tina sighed, taking her eyes off the light brown folder and looking at her shoes. Part of her wasn’t sure she even  _ wanted _ to know how long had Grindelwald impersonated him. It would tell her for how long she hadn’t suspected a thing, in fact  _ no one  _ had suspected a thing. 

She straightened her back, lifting her eyes from the floor. It was a train of consciousness she was not willing to pursue. She had successfully managed to avoid it since she had been given the case. Now was not the time to  think about it. She had a job to do. And Graves was alive. Injured, yes, but with hope of full recovery. And her case was almost closed, with Grindelwald already in custody. In a few days she could wrap the thing up and the trial could be set.  

_ That  _ was something she looked forward to. Having the dark wizard face all his crimes. Face justice. Pay for what he had done. For the lives he had taken, the pain he had inflicted. Credence's pale face, drenched in sweat on Newt’s cot, came to her mind and she stopped her teeth from gritting. To think Grindelwald had been so close to using him...

The hospital door opened and Tina jumped to her feet, trying to compose herself. President Picquery walked out into the corridor and nodded in Tina’s direction. Tina gave an awkward nod and squaring her shoulders she walked into the room, all thoughts of Credence settled aside as she faced the wizard whose disappearance had had her burn the midnight oil on too many nights.

There was a tinge of hesitation in Tina’s movements as she entered his room. She was looking  at him with a gaze Percival could not fully interpret. Relief, guilt, determination, but more, more. There were shades of emotions he was unable to decipher in the brief moment it took her to compose herself and don a professional expression.

“Mr.Graves, sir.” she said with a nod, closing the door behind her and moving towards the chair.

“Tina.” he greeted her back, watching her place her hands on the back of the chair, while her coat floated to the peg on the wall, followed by her hat.

“It’s good to see you, Goldstein.” he told her, glad his voice was steady and not letting through the landslide of emotions Seraphina’s words had caused. Emotions he was not ready to ponder and they pulled at his already weakened defences. He needed to get a grip of himself. His fingers dug deeper in the blanket underneath him while he focused on the witch who was standing somewhat awkwardly behind the chair.

“Sir…” she began and Percival could tell she was unsure how to proceed.

“You need my testimony.” he saved her the effort, and she nodded, dark hair bobbing with the motion.

“I have a couple of questions.” she said taking a seat on the chair Seraphina had just vacated, then giving him a small smile she added“You know the drill.”

“Indeed.” he replied almost wryly, feeling something unwind at the pale shade of humour.

She summoned a Quick-Quote Quill and a roll of parchment that levitated next to her. Then she gave him a quick nod and Percival began

“I was abducted on the 12th of November…”

The quill scratched in the background, while Tina listened Graves recount the events that had landed him in captivity. As his voice worked its way through the events of an otherwise unremarkable Friday that had landed him in Grindelwald’s captivity, Tina observed him. He looked thinner than usual, but it did not stop him from cutting a rather imposing figure with his squared shoulders and serious gaze. His face was covered in a thick stubble that was nearly a beard and there were dark circles under his eyes that eerily reminded her of her own. They spoke of exhaustion, of weeks spent in captivity. And yet, Graves held himself with his usual sternness, straight-backed and seemingly unbreakable. His hands spoke otherwise.

Buried in the grey blanket he sat on, his hands did not move an inch. 

Graves spoke of how he had been ambushed in an alley near the Woolworth building, Grindelwald seemingly appearing out of thin air - not Apparated, Graves suspected an Invisibility Cloak or a strong Disillusionment Charm. But his hands did not move. Even when he recounted the altercation between himself and the dark wizard Graves did not use them to emphasise his words, to convey the subtle meanings his normally controlled expressions concealed. His hands remained motionless on the bed, knuckles white. And that, way beyond the haggard appearance of the wizard in front of her made a coil of worry tighten inside her guts.

Graves had always used gestures to accompany his words. It was an integral part of him. So much in fact that even Grindelwald had made sure to mimic his gesticulation. Tina could remember clearly the faux Graves moving his hands as he interrogated Newt, speaking with his body as much as with his voice. Acting so well Tina had not suspected a thing. Even when he had sentenced them to death. 

Even then, for all that it had been unfathomable, Tina had not stopped for a moment to think, to wonder. She had been quick to assume the worst of him. Tina breathed out, trying to banish the tendrils of guilt that were worming their way into her conscience. But failing. Failing. Because she had not been able to tell the difference between the man she had known for years and the darkest wizard of their day and age. Because she had ascribed every odd behaviour to a previously unnoticed idiosyncrasy. And the more she observed the wizard in front of her the guiltier she felt. Because they were not the same. Because for all that they were guarded, their eyes were not the same. Not at all. The look in their eyes was not the same.

Suddenly Graves’ voice trailed mid sentence

“Is everything alright, Tina?” he asked with a frown and she realised she must had made a face. 

She tried to give him a smile, but she was sure it had come out awkwardly.

“Yes. I’m sorry, sir. “ she mumbled “You were describing…”

She glanced at the parchment floating on her right

“...spells? Um, binding spells, right?”

He did not reply, silently observing her. His eyes were slightly narrowed and a crease had appeared between his brows.

She was distressed. It was subtle, hidden in the downward curve of her lips and the tight lock of her left ankle behind her right one. It reminded him of the Barebone incident and its aftermath, only there had been rage, plain and outward, outspoken like Tina was wont to be when it came to justice. Muted later and mingled with shame after her actions had lost her the position in the Auror Department. But this was something different. Something more quiet and all pervasive. He did not know what had happened after Grindelwald had stunned him, but Percival could not help but wonder what could have left a trace so deep on her. 

He was tempted to question her. 

“There is not much more to be said about his spells.” he said at last “I was bound, unable to move inside the cigarette case. He carried it on his person at all times.”

That seemed to get her attention 

“You were there for everything, sir?” she asked, brown eyes taking in his reaction

“I was. He discarded it after the interrogation of Mr. Scamander and yourself.” he told her flatly “I almost managed to escape and he stunned me.”

Tina nodded, lips pursed and a frown etched on her forehead.

“Would you consent to hand over your memories from your captivity?” she asked him, while the quill halted in mid-air.

“Do you have a vial?” he replied in lieu of an answer and Tina nodded, summoning a small leather pouch out her coat pocket. 

It clinked lightly as it flew into her outstretched hand.

“We don’t have to do it now, sir.” she told him, voice a notch softer as she pulled the rope straps and opened the pouch, extracting a small glass container. 

He shook her head, and Tina stood up from the chair she had been perched on. She gave him a hesitant look before she stepped closer and drew her wand. She gently touched the tip to his temple. Percival closed his eyes and began to remember.

Thin threads of silver sprung from the tip of her wand only to be captured inside the small glass vials she always carried on her, as the Auror protocol demanded. Graves’ eyes remained closed throughout the process, dark lashes resting on skin too pale, too waxen. She extracted the memories one by one, careful to keep them intact, and trying to ignore the steady beat of her heart. She could hear him breath, soft puffs of air coming through his nose. Lost in his reminiscence, there was a frailty to him, an openness that made her breath hitch somewhere in her chest. It was not the first time Tina had extracted memories, but it had never felt so intimate.

She swallowed, taking her eyes off him and looking at the charmed window on the wall in front of her. The pale blue light of dawn was filling with the first rays of orange and the golden light seeped into the sterile white room, threading in the dark locks atop Graves’ head, combed back without the usual precision. It danced on his greying temples, piercing through the mist of yet another memory as she trapped it inside a glass vial. Her hand was steady for all that she barely noticed her own motion, locked in the moment. The fatigue of the past days, the worry, the frustration ebbed, scattered in the glow of the New York morning light and the steady sound of Graves breathing as weeks’ worth of memories flowed out of him.

His eyelids fluttered open as a last streak of white mist wound its way into a vial. Tina found herself smiling, a soft upturn of her lips as she lingered there, just a moment, looking at him. His eyes were dark and there was much to be read in them. But it was the cracks in the walls of his defence that let the light seep through. Cracks that shouldn't have been there.

Tina stepped back, it was a jerked movement and Percival wondered what she had seen in his look to make her react like that. What had he let slip through?

He felt empty, boneless after forcing himself to relive every moment of captivity he could think of, even the smallest and most insignificant - he knew well how much could be learned from the most trivial of details - and the tiredness he had managed to push aside in the wake of his rage slithered back over him. But he was not ready to give in. Not when Tina acted so oddly. 

“Tina, what happened after the interrogation?” he asked quietly, not a request and Tina looked at him with a frown.

His hands were still firmly clutching the bedding and he appeared paler than before. Faintly she wondered if she should call for a Healer, but somehow the tone of his question made it important for her to answer. He had asked, not demanded. Graves never asked.

“We were brought to the Death Cell.” she began, aiming for a summary of the events, but soon she was recounting the escape in the nick of time, the Swooping Evil, her sister’s and Jacob’s help in getting out of the Woolworth Building, the speakeasy, the Occamy, Credence. Her voice faltered at that as a lump rose to her throat. The boy was safe aboard a steamship heading for Europe along with Newt, but the memory of the spells tearing him apart still lingered. Getting her voice under control Tina told him about the subway, about Grindelwald, about the Obscurus and how Newt had saved the day. 

“They killed him.” he said in a clipped voice. 

His expression had remained unchanged, impassive even, if not for the anger flaring in his brown eyes at Credence’s fate. And Tina wanted to tell him they didn’t. Wanted to tell him the boy was safe. But for all the trust she had in Graves, he was still the Director of Magical Security. She could not gamble Credence’s safety. 

“They blasted the Obscurus apart.” she told him, not quite lying, and still feeling the tang of guilt on the tip of her tongue.

Graves closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them they were staring right at her

“I’m sorry Tina.” he said, genuinely contrite “I promised I would take care of him.”

She gaped.

“No. No, Mr. Graves, it’s  _ not  _ your fault.” she told him with heat in her voice “Grindelwald did this. To Credence. To you. To all of us.  _ This _ is not your fault.”

And then, her shoulders slumping slightly and her gaze falling on her hands she added

“But we should have noticed something was amiss.” 

She was not looking at him and Percival began to understand her reaction. She felt guilty. It knotted his breath. She was the least to blame, forced to push parchments most of her days and far away from the Auror Department. She truly had no reason to feel guilt.

He opened his mouth to tell her as much when a sharp knock sounded on the door, followed by the appearance of Auror Knowley.

“Ma’am!” the dark-skinned witch said with a look of urgency in her eyes, then adding “Sir.”

“Susanne, what is it?” Tina asked her, gripping her wand.

“There’s been an emergency.” Knowley replied, shoulders tense and wand in hand “Grindelwald escaped.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose that was not the plot-twist you expected? *bats eyes innocently*
> 
> Susanne Knowley is the auror in the middle of this [pic](http://popcrush.com/files/2016/06/fantastic-beasts.jpg)


	7. The Investigation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super long chapter to make amends for the long wait (and also because Percy insisted at giving Tina paragraph-long looks and who am I to complain).  
> That being said, this is where the fic gets its rating. If you think I should add triggers warning, I will.
> 
> This chapter is being brought to you by this splendid composition: [Beethoven's Silence by Ernesto Cortázar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39DNaNAMKAU)

The large metal doors creaked shut. The dull echo filled the large chamber before the cogwheels began to click as the locks slid back into place. Tina strode between the squat columns that held the ceiling, Auror Knowley in tow. She glanced towards the younger witch. Her mouth was set in a thin line that mirrored Tina’s expression. Their wands were drawn as they moved towards the back of the chamber where the gates of the Unbreachable Block  were magically welded into the wall. There was a faint noise coming from that direction. In the dim light Tina could see the hunched form of a man casting spells at the door hinges. The flash of a camera illuminated his brown leather coat and Tina recognised one of the aurors from the Tracking Team. The Detection Spells flashed light yellow and orange, illuminating the intricate runes that had been placed on the door for protection. 

Another auror walked out of the Unbreachable Block, frowning as he took notes. The wizard nodded in their direction as Tina and Knowley reached the entrance to the cells which had contained Grindelwald until that morning. 

Built into the foundations of the Woolworth Building, the Unbreachable Block was the most securely guarded prison in the whole United States. It had been designed to withstand the strongest spells and nothing short of destroying the whole building could breach it. The cells within were equally warded, runes etched under the thick white paint. So much magic had been imbued in that portion of the building it was impossible to break out.

And yet Grindelwald had managed to.

Tina could see her own confusion reflected in the frowns of the aurors processing the scene. She slowed down as she reached them, waiting for another wave of magic to die down before she stepped through the gates and into the narrow corridor beyond. The harsh light made her blink as her eyes adjusted. Several feet ahead there was a number of aurors casting spells and Tina made a beeline in their direction, her footsteps loud on the metal floor. Auror Queaslin walked out of cell 47, looking unnaturally pale in the bright light. 

“Ma’am” he greeted her, his sharp face making him look colder than he was and Tina managed a weak smile.

“Quentin.” she grimly greeted the wizard back “What do we know?”

The tall wizard summoned his notepad which was floating nearby and turned his head towards the cell, motioning for Tina to follow him inside. 

It was a small room, four metal walls painted in white and an equally bright ceiling that enclosed them in a web of magic. She spared only a moment to feel the tingle of the warding spells before her attention was captured by the sight on the floor.

A man, dressed in the white uniform of a Prison Guard lay supine next to the cot, motionless. Unnaturally so. Tina exhaled through her nose feeling a knot in her stomach. Faintly she registered the Mediwitch who knelt on the floor above the man, waving her wand in complex motions. Threads of light wove around the body in various patterns and Tina watched them transfixed and unable to tear her eyes from the matted grey hair on the back of the man’s head.

“The morning shift went to make rounds and found him” Queaslin told her, breaking her out of her reverie “Thomas Wretcher, 51. Has been working for MACUSA since 1893. No criminal record.”

“Cause of death?” Tina asked him, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Poisoning, we believe.” Queaslin replied “We have found an empty vial under the cot. But we can’t be sure until the Magipathologist examines him”

Tina nodded and the wizard continued

“We’ve been trying to locate the other guard on duty, Janelle Labonne.” he told her “But we haven’t traced her yet.”

“A hostage?” Tina inquired, shifting her attention to the Senior Auror.

“Or a suspect.” Queaslin suggested and Tina frowned.

“What do we know of her?” she asked him, turning her head towards the corridor and wordlessly beckoning Knowley.

“Not much.” Queaslin told them, summoning a thin folder that had the Magical Personnel sigil printed on front.

Tina opened it. There was a small photograph stapled on the corner of the first parchment and Tina frowned at the familiar face. She had seen the dark-skinned witch somewhere. Tina looked closely at it. A young witch with a thick mane of dark curly locks pulled in a bun that appeared to touch the high neck of the dress. The style was turn of the century, which meant the woman would be in her fifties now? Glancing at the sheet of parchment below confirmed her assessment. She gave a quick read to the rest of the basic informations before looking back at the picture, intrigued. There was a familiarity Tina could not place. Something in the eyes. In the way they looked at Tina through the charmed photosensitive paper.

“Ma’am” Knowley’s voice pulled her attention and she snapped her head up, closing the folder.

“Yes, sorry.” she said flashing Knowley an awkward smile

“Susanne, can you try and locate Mrs. Labonne” she asked the other witch and Knowley nodded “Also, could you get a newer picture of her?” 

“Sure, ma’am. I’m onto it.” 

 

The grey light of the afternoon barely touched the room. The lamps had not been charmed on and Percival lay on his bed looking at the thick clouds that hung low above the rooftops. One of the nurses had told him the Daily Augurey section of the New York Ghost had forecast snow. Percival had never cared much about the weather, lesser even discussing about it, but the elderly nurse had paid no mind to the unimpressed look he had thrown her way, and had continued to talk while she had administered him his potions. The soliloquy had been interrupted only to mutter spells while she had waved her wand over him. 

Sometime after that Percival had fallen asleep, reluctantly accepting a vial of Dreamless Sleep. He had begrudgingly admitted to himself that he was in no shape to conduct an investigation, for all that he wanted nothing but to join his aurors on the manhunt. To capture the dark wizard and drag him in front of a court. To see him executed for his crimes. The need to bring him to justice was carved deep inside him and it took most of his willpower to exercise patience. To allow his body and magic to heal before he made Grindelwald pay for everything he had done to the Wizarding Community. To him. 

For almost taking Tina’s life.

She was alive. He exhaled a breath too shaky and scolded himself for the lack of control he had over his body. Dragging his eyes away from the charmed window on his right he glanced at the peg near the door where Tina’s coat and hat were still hanging, forgotten in the rush to reach the cells after Auror Knowley had delivered the news. 

It was so strange to see the black hat that seldom left her head hang there. To see tangible proof she  _ had  _ been there only hours before. That she was alive. After all the days, the weeks he had spent in the darkness that had confined him, torn between rage and grief, it felt surreal to see her. To hear her voice. To feel the brush of her breath on his forehead while she had extracted his memory. To feel her presence so close. Alive. 

He could feel his heartbeats increase in pace and a wave of irritation washed over him. And yet as he closed his eyes for a moment there she was once again, brown eyes and the orange light of dawn colouring her cheeks. Percival gritted his teeth. Tina was one of his aurors, his colleague, his responsibility. Thinking these thoughts would lead to nothing good. Percival needed to get his bearing back. He needed to gather his strength and do his job. He needed to focus. And these thoughts, this  _ yearning, _ it was only a distraction. 

He turned his eyes back to the clouds that seemed to suffocate the sky. They could be on the brink of a wizarding war. The Magical Congress needed him. The Wizarding World needed him. And he needed his mind sharp and focused.

Tina was alive. And that would have to be enough.

 

A long winding corridor led from the Hospital Ward to the Morgue. The same tiles lined the walls, but the only sound were her hurried footsteps as Tina made her way to the Magipathologist’s cabinet. A paper mice had reached her while she had been sipping her fourth mug of coffee in her office, watching the first flakes of snow fall on the dark street below. Her joints had popped loudly when she had lifted from her chair and hurried to take the elevator. She was tired and nowhere close to understanding what had happened that morning. How had Grindelwald escaped? Who was Janelle Labonne? How had Thomas Wretcher died? The memo had informed Tina the autopsy of the late Prison Guard had been finished and Prof. Underpicker had invited her kindly to join him in the Morgue.

The elderly wizard seldom left his cabinet and the examination room and Tina had descended down to the Hospital Ward. On the way to the Magipathologist she had passed by Graves’ hospital room, slowing her steps. She had left in such a hurry that morning and had wished to see the Director. To finish their conversation, she told herself. To do her job thoroughly. And if her stomach twisted a notch at the recollection of their last encounter, Tina had ignored it. And had hurried by.

Reaching the Morgue, Tina knocked on the massive door of the Examination Room. Her knuckles had barely left the dark wood when the door swung open with a swish, revealing a large room. Tina stepped in, feeling the rush of air as the door closed behind her. The chamber was dimly lit, shadows clinging to the ornate wooden panellings that covered the walls. The only light came from the charmed baubles that floated above the metal table in the centre of the room, brightly illuminating the body laid atop it. Tina watched the elderly Magipathologist remove his dragonhide gloves while a needle worked on the chest of the late Thomas Wretcher, closing the incisions of the autopsy. Prof. Ulysses Underpicker charmed his apron off and moved towards the basin in the corner to wash his hands.

“Miss Goldstein, it’s always a pleasure to see you.” he greeted her, smiling under his thick white beard while he poured various potions on his hands “Although circumstances are seldom pleasant.”

Tina gave him a weak smile, trying not to look at the table where a white sheet was crawling up the lifeless body and covering it from sight.

“I suppose you are here for the results of the postmortem.” he told her, drying his hands while a roll of parchment levitated towards them.

“I am, sir. I got your memo.” she replied, taking the proffered scroll.

“Our poor boy here” he said pointing at the body on the table “he was poisoned. But you already knew that, Miss Goldstein.”

“Do we know what kind of poison?” she inquired and the Professor made a small grimace.

“Only conjecture until the Alchemists do their magic.” he told her “I detected traces of Acromantula venom, but it must had been mixed with some slowing agent, because our poor Thomas did not die immediately.”

Tina nodded, frowning. 

“Anything else, Professor?” she asked while her mind filled with questions, the foremost being why use a slow acting poison in the first place. But also why Acromantula venom. It was an extremely rare ingredient and equally expensive. There were many simpler ways to poison a wizard. 

“I found traces of Boomslang skin in his stomach.” Professor Underpicker tore her from her musings “They might have been part of the potion he was poisoned with, but in my modest knowledge of the art of Potionmaking I would see no use for this particular and unusual ingredient within a poison.”

Her frown deepened, but she nodded nonetheless.

“Thank you Professor.” she told him with a smile

“You are welcome, Miss Goldstein.” he replied with a smile.

 

Percival expected to get a paper mouse with news on the case. But his idle observation of the falling snow beyond the charmed window was interrupted by a knock on the door of his hospital room. He straightened in his bed as the door opened a moment later, revealing a weary Tina Goldstein. Jacket thrown over her arm, she walked into the room and slumped down on the chair she had vacated hours before.

“This is a murder investigation now.” she told him in lieu of greeting, handing him a cardboard folder, then added “Sir.”

He took the folder, eyes scanning the witch with a small frown. She seemed exhausted, but restless, her finger tapping on the wand lying on her lap. Her eyes were fixed on her hands, one of them clutching the grey fabric of her jacket. Her white blouse was rumpled and her shoulders were tense. Sensing his gaze she lifted her eyes with a questioning look. Percival kept his expression blank as he met her eyes. There was the beginning of a frown between her dark eyebrows. And the brown in her eyes shimmered in the white light of the room. A hand rose to her ear to tuck back a lock of hair that had escaped and Percival followed the movement, the folder forgotten between his fingers. 

Tina swallowed, feeling all the weight of Graves’ gaze on her. His dark eyes were unreadable and she could feel the beginning of a flush at the base of her neck. She averted her eyes with a frown, trying to swallow down the flutter in the pit of her stomach. Exhaustion must be getting at her, she reasoned, toying with the tip of her wand. And yet she could not help the warmth that spread under her skin. She glanced upwards, meeting Graves’ eyes for a brief moment before he tore his gaze away and focused it on the folder she had given him. She could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

The words swam before his eyes and Percival exhaled a huff of frustration. He needed to get a grip of himself. Tina Goldstein was one of his aurors, currently the only one he could fully trust. He had no business admiring the curve of her neck and the way her hair fell from behind her ear in brown waves. He closed his eyes for a moment. The darkness was not complete, broken by flashes of pink and orange as the light filtered from behind his closed lids. But it sufficed to remind him Grindelwald was on the loose. To remind Percival he had a duty to the Wizarding Community and he  _ had to get a grip of himself _ . He opened them slowly and began to read. He perused the sheets of parchment, committing details to memory and looking at the photographs while anger began to simmer in the pit of his stomach. He could feel a sense of foreboding crawling down his spine. 

Murder, poison, a missing guard, strange pieces of evidence that did not fit into a clear picture. And the unlikely coincidence of it all happening less than an hour after he had been found. There was more afoot than just a prison break. Seraphina’s words trickled back into memory. And Percival wished more than ever to get out of this thrice damned hospital room and begin cleaning this mess. 

The dark wizard had help within the Magical Congress, that much was evident. It would have been impossible to evade prison in the first place. Not to mention Percival’s abduction and the excellent performance Grindelwald had executed. His own thoughts sounded paranoid to Percival, but in the numerous years he had been working for the Magical Law Enforcement he had learned to trust his instincts. And they were telling him the same thing Phina had said. No one was above suspicion.

No one but the witch sitting on the chair next to his bed, nervously tucking and untucking her hair behind her ear. He did not look at her long fingers. Did not think how the light danced in her hair. They needed to weed out Grindelwald’s followers. Find how deep he had burrowed himself within their ranks. They needed to keep the Wizarding Community of America safe. 

“How are you managing your new position?” he asked her, putting the folder down on the blanket. 

She lifted her eyebrows for a moment before making a small grimace

“Honestly, sir? I liked it better when I had to do the legwork.” she told him “I’m doing my best, though.”

“You found me.” he told her “I’d say you’re doing quite a good job, Goldstein.”

“Was that praise, sir?” she asked with a perplexed smile “From you, sir? Do I have to get a Healer.”

He huffed a laugh, feeling his lips curl in amusement. She grinned in reply and some of the tension seemed to seep off her shoulders. Warmth spread under his breastbone, but he banished it.

“This case does not look good.” he told her, seriousness returning to his face and Tina felt her own smile slip

“Yeah, looks like that.” she commented, feeling the frustration mount within her.

They had to wait for the Alchemist Office to send their report and Knowley’s investigation into Mrs. Labonne disappearance had yet to yield any result. It was still early on, less than a day had passed since the prison break, but Tina knew that with every passing hour Grindelwald was farther and farther away from their reach. And to add to that Queaslin had reported no traces of magical interference on the wards of the Unbreachable Block. Which meant the dark wizard had been let out. 

All in all it amounted to more questions than answers. And in the meanwhile Mr. Wretcher lay on a metal slab awaiting burial. She closed her eyes, exhaling. Part of her was cowardly glad she had not been to one to break the news to his widow. 

“Tina.” Graves’ voice made her open her eyes and Tina met a pensive expression

“Sir?” she asked.

“You do realise Grindelwald had help from within?” he inquired rhetorically, but Tina nodded nonetheless watching the grim line of his lips on his shaved face.

He fixed her with a look, but where his eyes before had made her feel warm inside, now they seemed to bore into her own with determination. She felt her spine straighten.

“It could reach deeper than we think.” he told her “And it could very well be one of our own.”

Her mouth curved in a grimace.

“Everyone is a suspect, that’s what you are saying, sir?” she asked him earnestly

“Yes.” he replied, eyes hard and weary at the same time “Everyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Auror Quentin Queaslin is the second one from the left in this [picture](http://cdn.fansided.com/wp-content/blogs.dir/369/files/2016/09/Snapshot-101-850x560.jpg).  
> From the left: Claire Costanza, Quentin Queaslin, Jim Lopez and Susanne Knowley.


	8. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not exactly happy with this chapter, but there's only so much nitpicking I can do before I start screaming at the screen. XD

The streets were covered in slush. It squished wetly under Tina’s shoes as walked down the busy Manhattan street. The snow had stopped falling during the morning, leaving a bleak grey sky in its wake. The puddles of half-melted sludge were covered in a thin layer of ice as the temperature slowly dropped. Tina tucked her hands in her pockets. She had forgotten her gloves atop a pile of parchments in the office.

It had been a very trying day and a half. Her shoulders were tense and the weariness of the past weeks seemed to have seeped deep inside her bones. But she couldn’t give in. Grindelwald had escaped and the danger he posed to the whole wizarding world mingled bitterly with her memories of all the pain he had caused. To Credence, to Graves, to Newt and herself. To how close had their world been to unraveling. They could not let the dark wizard get away. For all the exhaustion and frustration, Tina had been assigned this case and she intended to see it solved. 

She kicked a small mound of snow in her way. Nearly every auror in the Department had been assigned to the case, but to her chagrin no progress had been made yet. Grindelwald was nowhere to be found and there were no leads on the disappearance of the second prison guard, either. Knowley had gone all the way to Connecticut to talk to Janelle Labonne’s remaining family, but no one had seen the woman in months. After her husband had died in Europe, Mrs. Labonne had been left alone in a small apartment in Harlem. Her no-maj landlord could only tell them the widow paid her rent regularly, but nothing more. And Knowley had not been able to procure a more recent photograph of the witch, either. 

It irked Tina greatly, the eerie sense of familiarity. And her inability to place the dark-skinned witch. 

She dodged a larger puddle, stepping on a patch of grimy snow. It was slippery under her soles and she swayed lightly until she regained her balance, hands flying out of the pockets and into the cold winter air. Scowling at the state of the pavement, Tina walked on. She inhaled the chilly wet air, relishing in the feeling of it on the exposed skin of her face. It felt grounding. 

She walked on, drowning in the noise of the city as she strolled down the streets amid the hurried hustle and bustle of the no-majs. Idly she gazed at the festive decorations in the shop windows. The bright reds and greens clashed starkly with the greyness of the overcast sky.  There were small piles of dirty snow on the edges of the pavement. Tina passed them by. It felt good to simply walk and clear her head of all the threads of the case she was working on. Of the frustration of meeting dead end after dead end. 

Of the nagging suspicion that had permanently taken home in her mind.  

She grimaced. 

Graves’ words had echoed in her mind when she had greeted her colleagues the morning before. It had been surreal to walk between their desks and wonder if one of them was a traitor. A supporter of the dark wizard who had managed to slip through their fingers. Of the man who had sentenced Tina and Newt to death.

She crossed the street, hurrying her steps to avoid a streetcar, and then continued through the crowd with a measured stroll. Tina could feel the tension in her shoulders increase at the memory. They had been so close to dying. And the helplessness of being sentenced to death by a wizard she had believed to be her Director, had been crippling. 

Tina had never felt so small. So insignificant.

She exhaled, trying to shake away the train of consciousness, and focus on the rumble of the passing cars and the faint smell of hot-dogs coming from beyond the corner. But even as a small clench of hunger reminded her she hadn’t eaten yet - never mind she was on her lunch break - Tina could not stop seeing the harsh white light of the interrogation room and the even brighter one of the Death Cell. The way Newt had paled, freckles dark in contrast. The fearful gaze of the British wizard and the compassionate one the guard had flashed before she had raised her wand to extract Tina’s most cherished memory. The pity in those dark brown eyes, the smile of resignated reassurance. It had done nothing to quell Tina’s terror and yet at the same time it had reminded her for a moment of her mother, of her childhood. There had been something familiar in the gaze. And the memory had sprung forward. 

Tina stopped mid-step, nearly slamming in a passer by. 

Her eyes were wide.

There had been something familiar.

The look, those eyes. 

Suddenly she hurried towards the nearest alley, dodging no-majs and getting shouted at. Those eyes were familiar. And not just because the expression had reminded Tina of her late mother. She had seen them. Just an hour ago on the front of an old photograph pinned on a board in the Major Investigation Department. The guard who had disappeared on the morning of Grindelwald’s escape. The witch they were looking for, Janelle Labonne. She was the guard who had been tasked with Tina’s execution.

Dodging a pile of garbage, Tina found a spot secluded enough to apparate and fished her wand out of her pocket. 

 

Daylight was waning as she hurried across the cobblestone and towards the Woolworth Building. The pale winter light reflected off the hundreds of windows. Tina stepped into a puddle of sludge, but she only muttered a discreet drying charm on her shoe as she stepped through the gates and into the lobby. Red grunted something about aurors always being in a hurry, while he punched the buttons that led them to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. 

The Department was abuzz when she stepped off the elevator and Tina did a double-take.  She eyed the room with a frown.There were aurors there who should not be there until the next shift and the tension in the air was palpable. But she only had a moment to wonder what had happened before Lopez strode in her direction, a grim expression on his tawny face. 

“Ma’am, the Alchemy report came in.” he told her without preamble, handing her a roll of parchment.

The wax seal had been broken and the edges of the parchment looked frayed, like it had passed  many pairs of hands before coming to hers. Lopez looked slightly apologetic, but she paid it no mind, eyes already scanning the content, all thoughts of Janelle Labonne set aside for the moment.

She  began to read.

And the tension in the room suddenly made sense.

The neatly typed report stated that the vial found in Grindelwald’s cell had contained a mixture of Polyjuice and a custom made potion. The latter, the Alchemist on duty inferred, had very likely been a slow acting poison made from Acromantula venom. According to the analysis there had been traces of a halfway decomposed blond hair within the vial, consistent with the usage of Polyjuice.

Tina lifted her eyes and looked at the Senior Auror for a moment, baffled.

“They Polyjuiced Wretcher to look like Grindelwald and poisoned him at the same time.” she stated with a disbelieving frown.

Lopez nodded.

“Why would they do that?” she asked and the wizard shook his head with a shrug.

“To get more time?” he replied.

“Yes, but to do what?” Tina insisted, giving him a wide-eyed look and shaking her head “He needed what, ten minutes to get out of the building? And the next round was scheduled at 7 am.”

Lopez nodded and Tina continued 

“But Polyjuice gave him nearly an hour before anyone would notice he’s gone missing.” she said with an ever deepening frown “What did he need the time for?”

“Dunno, ma’am.” Lopez told her with an apologetic look and shook his head again “Makes no sense to me.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” she told him before she heaved a sigh and made her way towards her office.

Her mind was reeling with informations and even more questions. 

She needed to pen a memo to Graves.

 

The room was growing quiet. The rise and fall of noise coming from the hallway had began to die down as the evening crept upon the Hospital Ward. Percival leaned his palms on the windowsill, glancing at his reflection on the charmed window. Through the still haggard pallor of his face he could see the snow begin to fall in earnest, covering the roofs in a pristine sheet of whiteness. His breaths were still laboured after pacing the length of the room more times than he had been able to count and periodically casting spells. His wand had been returned to him from the Evidence Hoard and Percival had pushed himself beyond what the Healers would advise. 

After two days of convalescence Percival was growing restless.

The prognosis, for all that it was positive, spoke of  _ weeks _ of Healer care. He could not wait so long to regain full functionality. Not with Grindelwald on the loose. Tina had been left to fend on her own on a major case, one that surpassed all Percival had encountered in his career. He did not doubt in her ability, he never had. But she was all alone. Tina could not count in the support of the Department. Not when it was entirely possible one of their own conspired with Grindelwald.

It was imperative that Percival got back to work. As soon as humanly possible.

He tapped his finger on the windowsill. Determination had brought him far, Percival trusted it would get him out of this hospital room.

He listened as the hallway descended into silence, only the occasional clicking of heels breaking the quiet, eyes fixed on the snowstorm beyond the fake windowpane. He disliked charmed windows, but he had to admit it gave a very truthful impression of reality. There were streaks of slush melting down the glass as the flakes touched it and a small pile of snow had formed outside the window. Percival wondered which of the hundreds of windows of the Woolworth Building was being reproduced on his wall. He was sure with enough calculations he could pinpoint the exact one. 

It would certainly be a better exercise than mulling over the case over and over, hitting dead ends at every corner, he thought wryly. That afternoon Tina had sent him a lengthy memo with updates on the case which had only made more and more questions speed around his mind. He had kept circling around the jarring coincidences in the case. The missing guard being the same witch that had been tasked with Tina’s execution and the timing of Grindelwald’s escape. It was all much too suspicious. And then there was additional hour the dark wizard had bought himself with the usage of Polyjuice, which had summoned a landslide of unanswered questions of its own.

Percival shook his head lightly, trying to clear his mind once again. Obsessive thinking would not let him get a fresh perspective. He needed to give his thoughts a break.

The snow kept falling and he followed the trail of flake after flake. The orange light of the city painted a strange picture on the frosty windowpanes and a sense of quiet descended on him. It was strange, this calm. Almost unnatural. And yet he relished it, for as long as it lasted. 

Quiet was always a harbinger of storms.

The silence had grown deep and Percival distantly wondered when would the nurse come to reprimand him for not being in bed yet. He glanced at the slightly rumpled sheets but remained rooted in front of the window. Sleep would bring back the struggle, the tension, the fear. It would drown him unless he took Dreamless Sleep. 

He was pondering whether to indulge in one more night of decent sleep and risk the eventual addiction to the potion when a knock sounded on his door.

“Come in.” he called, turning towards the door and adjusting the dressing gown he wore above his pyjamas.

The door opened quietly and he frowned in surprise. 

“Good evening, Mr. Graves.” Tina greeted him with a small smile.

Her shoulders were slightly hunched and there was an uncertain look in her eyes

“Tina.” he greeted back, bemused.

He had not seen her in the past two days and while Percival was loath to admit that he had missed her presence, he also wondered at the late night visit. What had happened? 

His shoulders tensed under his dressing gown, anticipating the bad news. He watched her stroll towards him without any urgency, her eyes unsure but her movements determined like always. His tension loosened a notch.

“You look better, sir.” she told him, as she came to stand by the window next to him. 

He gave her a long look before turning his gaze back to the snowstorm outside.

“Healers work miracles, it appears.” he replied, somewhat tartly.

“So does stubbornness” she replied “Or so I’ve been told whenever I land in the Hospital Ward.” 

Percival found his lips curving in a small smile and glanced at her. Her eyes were on the window, the orange light reflecting in the brown of her irises. Her mouth was curved in an almost smile while she looked at the flurry of snow that fell ever thicker on the roofs and chimneys. And Percival marvelled at the sight. The way her wavy hair fell over her ear, short enough to expose the length of her neck. The way her shoulders slowly began to relax as she contemplated the sight beyond the windowpane of a room high above them, most likely empty at this hour. A no-maj office perhaps? His mind’s idle thoughts scattered as she moved her fingers to tuck the loose strand of hair behind her ear. He followed the movement with his eyes, entranced. 

And perhaps it was the quiet of the evening, the long time spent watching the snow fall on New York, that made him indulge in the sight. Perhaps he was too tired to reprimand himself. Perhaps it was the way her lips curved a strange half-smile when she said

“I’ve always liked snow.” and her tone held a tinge of wistfulness, that kept his eyes trained on her even as his heart began pounding in his ears.

“Every auror does.” he deadpanned “Makes traces easier to follow.”

And Tina laughed, lips pulling in a grin while her shoulders shook. 

“Indeed, sir.” she said, looking at him with her brown eyes filled with humour.

But also laced with the same uncertainty he had read in her posture before. And his heart quieted its thrum

“I suppose this is not a social visit.” he stated, regaining some inner composure.

“No, sir.” she replied, then after a pause “I’ve been thinking about the case. About finding out who helped Grindelwald. And I might have an idea.”

“Go on.” he said, interested.

“You said it could be one of our own.” she began “And I think it’s important to find out if we have a mole in our Department.”

She paused for a moment, looking like she was debating whether to continue. He looked at her, schooling his face in an expression of patience. She sighed and nodded minutely.

“Sir, my sister is a natural Legilmens.” she told him and Percival blinked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, but Tina was not finished “And, well, I think we might use a secretary in the Department, once you come back. You  _ will _ be drowned in paperwork.”

The latter was boldly stated in jest, but Percival could see the hesitation. He had not known Queenie Goldstein was a Legilmens. And since Percival made it his business to know with whom to exercise his Occlumency in full force, it meant very few knew of the witch’s ability. Tina trusted him this secret.

It made something clench under his breastbone even as his lips pulled into a smile.

It was a brilliant plan.

  
  



	9. The Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead. I'm sorry. <3  
>  **TRIGGER WARNING! (see notes)**

The apartment was silent. Shadows gathered in the faint light of dusk coming through the living room window. Percival closed the door behind him, listening to the locks set back in place. The wards thrummed lightly, only a prickling in the back of his mind. And he let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding. His coat levitated to the rack with no effort, the black fabric all but disappearing in the darkness of the hallway. His steps on the hardwood resonated almost too loudly within the silencing charm he had long ago placed on the walls of his apartment. Barely registering his motions he reached the living room. And stopped in the doorway, gazing at the barely discernible silhouettes of his furniture in the dying light. 

He was home.

Percival had managed to convince the Healers to discharge him from the Hospital Ward because it was Christmas Eve and for the next two days he was bound to remain at home. Not that he ever had in the past. Percival had worked through most of the holidays in the fifteen years of his career. But agreeing to spend two days at home was a small price to get out of the Hospital Ward.

Exhaling he moved forward, stopping in front of the empty fireplace. A yawning expanse of darkness and soot beneath the mantlepiece. And above it, two old photographs of his late parents, taken when he had been a child. He touched the frames with the tip of his finger and the young man and woman smiled genially at him. He exhaled a laboured breath, leaning his hands on the fireplace while his head fell forward. 

The photographs were amongst the few possessions Percival had taken with him when he had moved to New York. A reminder of why he was doing his job.

A reminder of home.

He clutched the stone of the mantelpiece as his arms began to shake. 

He was home, but it was empty. And the absence of sound tangled in the darkness of the evening. It slithered around his windpipe as his ears began to buzz and his lungs strained to bring air into his chest. The faint orange light of the street scattered in the folds of the curtain and Percival began to plunge into the blackness of his prison, his limbs refusing to obey. 

His hand slipped. And suddenly his knees were hitting the floor. He barely registered it, clawing for breath while dread sizzled under his skin, rising up his arms, fast, faster. Drowning him in the deafening sound of his heartbeats. His hands were clutching his hair, forehead flush on the cold hardwood floor. He could not breath. He could not think. He could feel nothing but the shaking of his body as fear became him and he became fear. Lost in the dark. So endless. So silent.

Suddenly a light burst on, glass shattering in a surge of wild magic. And the living room was flooded with blinding light. It shone red beyond his closed lids and he slowly opened them, feeling his shoulders shake as tremors passed through him. He slowly breathed out. Then in. Bit by bit, his body stilled and his fingers slid down from his hair and onto the floor. 

He kept breathing while the world slowly settled back on its axis. Then, gingerly he got back to his feet and looked at the shards of glass that glittered on the floor. With a flick of his wrist they flew back to the wall, melting into the shape of one of his lamps. He lit the other two, casting his living room in a pool of light. 

And then he collapsed on one of the armchairs.

It was nearing dinner time when he finally forced his body to move. His joints popped loudly when he rose from the armchair and made his way towards the kitchen, charming all the lights in his home on. 

He had not anticipated such a reaction. Not after the relatively quiet days he had spent in the Hospital Ward, often too close to the edge of boredom for his liking. But Percival should have guessed the darkness of his nightmares would spill on his waking hours sooner or later. It was nothing unusual after a month of captivity. But knowing it was normal did nothing to settle the unease that thrummed in his chest. 

He felt spent as he made his way around the kitchen. It was as pristine as he had left it that Friday morning, nearly a month and a half before. But it was also fairly empty. It took him a while to charm something edible out of the supplies he had in his pantry. As the ingredients mixed together above the countertop, Percival began to feel a measure of calm. Setting the meal down on the table he began to eat. Slowly. Trying to settle his nerves. 

He put the cutlery down and glanced out of the window, sipping a glass of water. The snow was bright orange beneath the streetlights. Above it. the windows of a tenement, mostly lit. People moved, curtains pulled or open, and Percival observed them idly.

Eventually he got up from the table and charmed the dishes into the sink, a washcloth beginning to drip them in suds.

He felt like a wraith as he moved through the rooms of his home, mind blank and all the grit and determination that defined him, adrift in the tidal wave of panic that had washed over him. He slipped out of his clothes, took a shower, pulled clean garments on, charmed the used ones to wash themselves, and then he was once again in the living room. Lost.

Somewhere, beneath the blankness, was the knowledge he had a case to work on, a dark wizard on the loose in his city. But as he slumped down on the sofa, it seemed so distant. Like someone else’s life. And this void, this timeless pocket of present stretched above him, curling around his thoughts. His apartment was silent. And so was his mind.

Numb.

He stared at the wall ahead, clock soundlessly ticking away the minutes as the evening inched towards the night. And then his eyes slid down, resting on the coffee table. Dark wood, scratched with use, but unyielding. Above it was thrown a newspaper. Idly, Percival picked it, glancing at the familiar headlines. It was dated November 12th.

His fingers suddenly curled. The paper crumpling loudly and Percival watched at his hands bemused. But even as he wondered at the instinctive reaction he began to feel a flood of anger in the pit of his stomach. It rose quickly, like dragonfire, and his fingers crushed the paper with more force. And then it was floating up in the air above the coffee table, exploding in a burst of flames. 

Percival’s breaths were laboured, but the veil had been ripped and he stood up from the sofa, pacing through the living room. He felt the numbness slide off him in chunks. And bit by bit his thoughts began to align. 

He was going to catch Grindelwald if it were the last thing he did. He would not let himself be robbed of his mind. Cowering in fear of the darkness. Numbly going through motions. 

Grindelwald would pay. For everything he had done to him, for everything he had done to the Wizarding World, to Tina. For nearly taking away her life. 

For taking Credence Barebone’s.

Percival tasted bile in his mouth. And for a moment he felt the sharp stab of guilt for allowing the dark wizard to catch him alive. None of it would have happened if he had not been able to Polyjuice himself in Percival’s semblance. But even as the thought crossed his mind, Percival banished it. Grindelwald would have found another way. The mystery of his escape reason enough not to underestimate the dark wizard. Never again.

A sudden whoosh from the fireplace made him turn on his spot, wand poised to attack as flames burst to life. A moment later a head appeared in the fire. Percival lowered his wand, shoulders relaxing.

And a spark of warmth under his sternum. It was Tina.

“Good evening, sir.” she greeted him through the flames “The Healers told me they have discharged you today.”

“Yes.” he found himself replying as he knelt in front of the fireplace

“News on the case?” he asked, confused at the Floo call, but unable to stop the warmth from spreading.

It had nothing to do with the flames.

“Nothing new, sir.” she told him with a grimace that flickered through the orange of the fire, then a moment of hesitation before she added “I wanted to see if you were all right.”

Percival blinked, taken aback for a moment. And feeling his heart stutter.

“I am well.” he said automatically, trying to school his reaction “I will be back in the office on Monday.”

“That’s excellent, sir.” she told him with a smile and it was difficult not to smile back.

“I’ve arranged the matter of Queenie’s transfer with the Magical Personnel Office. She should be there on Monday too.” she added.

“Good.” he replied “This case is getting colder with every day.”

“I know, sir.” she exhaled “I’ll be working on the transcripts from your memories tonight, Rooke and Lewis finally finished looking at them this afternoon.”

She paused a moment.

“We’re gonna find them, sir.” she said with conviction “Both Grindelwald and the mole.”

And Percival could not stop the smile from tugging on his lips.

“I like you Goldstein.” he told her with a shake of his head.

And he did. He truly did. 

But he shouldn’t. Not beyond the fondness she deserved. 

“We will find them.” he told her, but the importance of the case paled in comparison to the determined smile she flashed him.

He shouldn’t. 

He did.

 

The clock struck midnight and Tina bit back a groan, putting the parchments down on the table. Pushing the chair back she got up and waved her wand to fix herself another mug of coffee. The water boiled in the air, turning a deep brown when the coffee mixed into it and floated down into her mug. It would taste better if she brewed it the traditional way, but the spell was quicker and after the third mug Tina didn’t care much for the taste.

She had been reading the transcripts for hours now and her eyes felt sore. Her mind was in an even worse shape after nearly four hours of reading. She had plunged into the task as soon as she had bid Graves goodnight and ended the Floo call. 

Tina didn’t know what had possessed her to call him. 

She had been disappointed not to find him in the Hospital Ward, when she had swung by after work. She should have been happy he was well enough to be discharged. But the dull sting of disappointment had throbbed in her gut on her way home, and before she had had time to ponder her actions she had already thrown the Floo powder in the fireplace. 

Queenie had eyed her with a knowing look when Tina had pulled her head out of the fireplace and dusted the ash off. And Tina had not been able to come to any retort. Because somewhere along that call her breath had hitched. He had complimented her.  _ I like you Goldstein _ , he had said and her stomach had fluttered even if the words had been spoken merely in fondness.

And to her chagrin she knew what it meant. 

She scowled as she took a sip of her coffee. It was not the first time it happened. But it didn’t make it any less embarrassing. Or less unprofessional. 

They had a job to do. Together. Tina could not spend her time replaying every smile, every cocked eyebrow, every look. It didn’t matter if her heart raced when she recalled how his mouth had curved, casting off the thick layer of exhaustion that had clung to him. It was silly. 

She needed to get a grip on herself and smother this nonsense. 

Putting down the cup with more force than necessary, Tina plopped down on the chair. She did not have the time to ponder her fancies. There were inconsistencies in the transcripted dialogues she did not understand and she needed to get to get to the bottom of it.

She looked down to the parchment, and the underlined portions of dialogue, forcing her mind to focus on the task at hand. The red lines blurred before her eyes, but after another sip of coffee she managed to banish the sight of the wrinkles that appeared at the corners of Graves’ eyes when he smiled. And focused on the typed words.

The underlined dialogues were odd, incongruent. People backtracking in the middle of the sentence, changing their mind abruptly or dropping the conversation entirely when just a moment before they seemed invested. And on top of it all, one of them was a conversation the faux Graves had had with Tina. 

It was amongst the first, somewhere in the first week after her demotion to the Wand Permit Office, she had been able to reconstruct. The dark wizard who had been posing as Graves had made a disparaging comment about the Barebones when Tina had timidly inquired if he had perhaps found the chance to keep an eye on them. And it struck Tina as very out of character. Not that she remembered it. She had inquired about the Barebones more than once and the doppelganger had always told her he was keeping an eye on the boy. But not that time. And Tina, according to the verbatim, had exclaimed her puzzlement only to bid Graves good day as if nothing had happened a moment later. She tried to evoke the memory to see what in the non-verbal part of the conversation, his gestures, his facial expression, what had made her drop the matter and set aside the suspicion that should have naturally arisen. 

But she could not remember it, no matter how hard she tried.

She rubbed her eyes tiredly, taking another sip of coffee. Setting that particular conversation aside, she focused on the dozens of other conversation and began to look for a pattern. There had to be one. 

 

Queenie was way too cheerful in the morning. And the crick in Tina’s neck from sleeping half sprawled on the dining table did not help to curb her usual morning grumpiness. She banished the parchments away and padded towards the bathroom to make herself somewhat presentable. By the time she exited the steamy bathroom, Queenie, bless her soul, had brewed a proper cup of coffee and made breakfast.

Tina was chewing on her eggs, mind still focused on the transcripts when Queenie piped in

“Do you want me to take a look on it?” she asked with a wide smile “The memory you can’t find, I mean.”

She did not need to acquiesce, Queenie’s smile simply growing softer before Tina felt a prodding sensation in her mind. It was not unusual, her sister’s Legilmency felt like that when she went deeper than the surface thoughts. The “loud thoughts” as her sister called them. But now she was digging even deeper and flashes of memories, of conversations she had had with both the real and the fake Graves streamed through her mind, quick like a whirlpool. Words muddled together, settings blurred, on and on and on. 

She had began to feel lightheaded when Queenie abruptly pulled out. Her mind swam from the sudden absence and she steadied herself on the table. 

Her sister was looking at her with a wide-eyed expression of concern.

“What is it?” she breathed, blinking away the dizziness.

“Oh, honey, it’s not there.” she said, blond eyebrows furrowing.

“The memory?” Tina asked, frowning.

“Yes, there’s a blank spot.” her sister replied, then grimacing “Teenie, I think you’ve been Obliviated.”

Tina gaped, staring at her sister while her mind drew a blank.

A moment passed. Two. 

And then, like a landslide it all tumbled into place. The conversations she had read, the odd reactions. Grindelwald had erased every faux pas from their collective memories. One by one. 

Of course no one had noticed a thing.

They had all been selectively Obliviated.

It was terrible. Knowing how much damage had Grindelwald done, how much he had manipulated them all should make her stomach twist. And it did. 

But beneath it Tina felt relief.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for panic attacks.
> 
> It's the first part of the chapter, so if you don't feel comfortable reading it, send me a comment and I'll summarise it for you. I know it can be hard. I nearly triggered myself writing it. *sends virtual hugs and a demiguise because everyone needs a demiguise*. <3


	10. The Impasse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter because I didn't want to split it.  
> As always thank you for the comments, kudos and general support. I love you guys. <3

The low rays of the early morning sun slashed between the tall buildings. The layer of snow on the pavement had been scrapped in piles until nothing but a thin layer of ice crunched under Percival’s shoes. He was striding down Park Place Street, coat pulled tight around him and warming charms in place. His breaths came out in puffs of white condensation and passers-by moved from his path as he walked purposefully towards the Woolworth building further ahead.

He had no time to waste.

Christmas had come and gone, and Boxing Day had followed, dragging endlessly while Percival had itched to finally get back to work. The silence of his apartment had been smothering and his mind had ran in circles, thinking about the case. Especially after Tina had informed him of her latest discovery. Dozens of memories wiped away. It had explained many things. And while it had curbed Percival’s disappointment in his aurors to a degree, knowing the lengths to which Grindelwald had gone to keep his act, had steeled his resolve to capture the dark wizard as soon as possible. And to find whomever had helped him.

He hoped they were looking for one person only, but the more he thought about the case the more he felt Tina and him were going into a witch hunt. There had to me more than one person involved.

His lip curled into a scowl as he gazed at the the Woolworth Building further ahead. The light blue sky was mirrored on its facade. Percival stepped into a patch of sunlight and the snow became blindingly white, the streaks of grime disappearing in the glare. He squinted his eyes to shield them from the light. With barely a glance to the road, he crossed the nearly empty street. Waving his wand discreetly Percival ascended the steps of the Woolworth Building and walked in.

The lobby was lively with scores of wizards and witches strolling up the staircase and towards their respective departments. Several people nodded in his direction, slight uncertainty in their movements and Percival replied with a curt nod of his own, striding towards the elevator. He could feel the unease of the people he encountered on his way to the Department. The two witches in the elevator purposefully averting their eyes.

Percival felt a measure of satisfaction at the guilt everyone felt. But it was a fleeting emotion, too quickly wiped away by the determination to bring Grindelwald to justice. To strip him of all power. To _destroy_ him.

He had dared nearly take everything from him. He had dared endanger _his_ city. His country.

Tina.

The bell chimed as the elevator reached his floor. The Major Investigation Department was empty when Percival stepped off the elevator. He strode past the boards filled with information on the cases, maps and photographs. Tina had provided a copy of everything that made it to her desk. He knew everything by heart already.

As he neared the Auror Department the buzzing of voices filled the silence, growing louder as he neared the doorway.

He stopped, a hand leaning next to one of the hinges. The winter sun pierced through the charmed windows, filling the room with bright light. Wreaths and baubles had been haphazardly charmed onto the walls and a small Christmas tree stood crookedly atop one of the file cabinets. And yet, for all of the decorations, the atmosphere in the Department had never felt less festive. There was an air of exhaustion on the faces. The grim pull of Costanza’s lips, the haggard look on Beatty’s wrinkled face, the dark circles under Queaslin’s eyes. Percival could tell the manhunt was stretching them thin. Frustrating them as much as it frustrated him.

He observed them a moment more and then he stepped into the room.

“Mr. Graves, sir!” Lopez exclaimed, coat midway shrugged off his shoulders.

The chatter abruptly stopped, the assembled aurors whipping their heads in his direction. They were looking at him warily, collectively holding their breaths.

“Lopez.” he greeted curtly before he nodded in the general direction of the room.

“It’s good to have you back, sir.” Costanza spoke at last, her shoulders squared but her expression uncertain, while the rest of the aurors murmured in agreement, trying to avoid looking him in the eye.

“Thank you.” he replied, eyeing the whole room for a moment longer.

They all knew they had failed the Department as aurors. They should have recognised an impostor. And while they may have been selectively Obliviated, Percival had still expected better from them. They had a duty to the Wizarding Community and to the Magical Congress. And they had failed.

A few of the Senior Aurors met his gaze, understanding what his silence meant. They had to do better. Much better if they intended to work for the Department. He gazed at them, each one of them. Then, he nodded tersely before striding out of the room and into the corridor that led to his office.

He was not angry, not with his aurors. But he could not show lenience. Not on this.

Not when one of them could be a mole.

The door clicked shut behind him and Percival walked towards his desk with a frown.

His office looked the same as it always had and yet it didn’t. There was a wrongness to everything in the room that made unease suddenly trickle down his spine. The compendium of Magical Law was in the wrong order, the inkwell was too far on the right, the brass Sneakoscope was not on its usual shelf in the cabinet behind his chair. He barely registered waving his wand before cabinet doors opened and objects began to levitate around the room, setting down on their proper places. The china jar of Floo powder turned until it faced the right way. The lamp in the corner moved to the right side of the chair, while the pile of books on the small table levitated back on the shelf where they belonged. Bit by bit his office began to look like it was supposed to. And yet, Percival could not stop feeling the traces of foreign magic that had been imbued in the room. It was a cold itch in the back of his neck.

Shaking off his unease he walked towards the door that had been squeezed between two cabinets, black wood barely noticeable next to the equally dark panelling of the furniture. Tina had told him the day before, they had added a second door to his office, leading directly to the newly installed Secretary’s Office, where the other Goldstein would be working while she helped them weed out Grindelwald’s followers.

He turned the brass knob and the door opened on its own. It was a small office with a window that was charmed to show the street in front of the Woolworth Building. Office supplies levitated around the room, as Queenie Goldstein waved her wand.

“Good morning, Miss Goldstein.” he greeted her and she pivoted, flashing him a large grin.

“Mr. Graves! Good morning.” his newly appointed Secretary beamed at him from behind her desk, putting down her wand while the various knick-knacks stilled in the air.

“I trust you have been informed of your duties?” he asked her and her blond curls bounced as she nodded.

“Yes, Mr. Graves.” she told him “Tina explained everything to me.”

“Excellent.” he said curtly, then turning on his heels made for the door.

“Would you like me to bring you some coffee?” Queenie asked just as he had reached for the doorknob.

He turned his head in her direction.

“Black, two sugars.” he replied, then added “Thank you, Queenie.”

 

Tina made it Graves’ office around noon, after several hours of discreet inquires with the people she suspected Grindelwald had Obliviated. Graves had suggested keeping quiet about it for now, which meant Tina had to interrogate various Aurors, Obliviators and general MACUSA employees without them realising what she was after. It was tedious work, but she had managed to identify at least five people who had been Obliviated. One of them was Auror Costanza and Tina had been glad to be able to scratch her off the suspects list.

Not that they had a proper one, yet. They had discussed about possibilities during the Floo calls they had exchanged for the holidays, but were yet to make a list.

She knocked on the door and a terse

“Come in.” made the door open on its own accord.

“Mr. Graves.” she greeted him, a smile pulling on her lips.

He stopped his pacing and his expression grew less stern.

“Tina.” he replied moving back towards his desk and motioning for her to take a seat “How did the interrogations go?”

“I have five confirmed.” she told him, briefing him on the interviews she had made.

He sat with his elbows propped on the desk while he listened to her. His eyes never straying from her. Every now and then his quill would scratch on the parchment, wandlessly prompted to take notes. But his attention was all on her. Tina tried to keep her heart from stuttering, but even though her voice remained even, she could feel the flutter in the pit of her stomach take flight. It was silly, incredibly silly. She hated it.

Keeping her hands from fidgeting with the cardboard covers of the folder she held in her lap, Tina told him about the two Obliviators, the witch from the Typing Pool and the Evidence Hoard clerk whom she had identified along with Auror Costanza.

“How many more remain?” he asked when she finished her report.

“Sixteen that I’m nearly certain about and five that could have been Obliviated, but I’d need Queenie to confirm it.” she told him, handing him a sheet of parchment where she had transcribed the suspicious conversations.

His eyes shifted off her as he began reading. Tina exhaled, her shoulders relaxing a notch.

“This one is Owens from Dark Spell Detection.” he told her, lifting his eyes “We were in the same House at Ilvermorny. He would have been suspicious at me not catching the reference about the Wampus Quidditch Team”

“You played Quidditch, sir?” Tina piped in, curious and Graves’ lips pulled in a hint of a smile

“I did. Chaser.” he said “Made it to Captain in Sixth Year.”

“Of course you did.” she said, without thinking, only to widen her eyes as her mind registered what she had just said.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean…” she tried to backtrack but Graves just cocked an eyebrow, huffing a laugh.

“And you must have been one to get detention often, Goldstein.” he told her tartly, looking at her with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

“What made you think that, sir?” Tina replied, grinning at him.

Her cheeks were lightly flushed and Percival could do nothing but stare for a moment. She was smiling, a wide grin that made her brown eyes shine. She was beautiful, he realised with a pang in his chest. He had always known it, intuitively, but he had never fully encompassed the sheer wonder that she was when her defences were down and she gave way to mirth. She was looking at him, without the tension and deference she usually held in her gaze and Percival felt the world shrink to nothing but her eyes, her rosy cheeks, the curve of her mouth. The strand of hair about to fall from behind her ear. Her hands, splayed on the folder in her lap, knuckles relaxed.

His heart was beating loudly in his ears, but he knew for all that it was a precious sight, it was not his to enjoy. She was his auror, his colleague, more than ten years his junior.

And they had a case to solve.

“Owens.” he said, resisting the urge to clear his parched throat.

Tina blinked, knuckles bending to take hold of the folder as everything in her composure shifted back to her guarded self.

“I’ll talk to him, sir.” she told him with a stiff nod “And, I’d start compiling a rough suspects list.”

“Do that.” he told her curtly, still trying to regain his composure “We’ll adjourn.”

“Yes, sir.” she said, getting up to her feet.

 

The next two days Tina sent him paper mice, burying herself in the case and leaving her office only to go and talk with the witches and wizards from the Obliviated List, as she had dubbed it. After talking to Owens and confirming he had been Obliviated, Tina had managed to track two more witches, one from Accounting and Goblin Relations, and an old wizened lady from the Scroll Archives. She had penned Graves memos, trying to convince herself she did not have the time to see him and discuss the case in person. Telling herself it was pointless to see him until she finished the list of suspects. Queenie had eyed her with a knowing look.

The same look she was giving her now, as she filled the a mug of coffee in the Department kitchenette.

“Teenie, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about” she told her in a half whisper.

Rooke and Lewis were standing nearby, engrossed in a conversation while they ate their sandwiches. Tina pursed her lips at her sister’s comment.

“I’m not embarrassed.” she retorted, but Queenie just gave her a look and Tina sighed loudly.

She _was_ embarrassed at the way she had acted the last time she had been around Graves. But more than that she was loath to see the Director because she hated the way her breath hitched and her heart thrummed. She hated the way she felt at ease in his presence, how he seemed less forbidding when she smiled. How easy it would be to slip and get attached.

“You’re afraid of getting hurt.” Queenie said with a sad frown “Oh, Teenie. I wish I could read his mind…”

“Don’t even try!” Tina exclaimed, loudly enough to get Rooke’s and Lewis’ attention.

Lowering her voice she continued

“It’s nothing, Queenie. Let it go.” her sister continued to look at her with a pained expression but Tina stared at her firmly “He’s our boss. We both have to work with him.”

Queenie nodded.

“But if it makes you any happier I’ll go see him now.” Tina added and Queenie gave her a smile.

She couldn’t delay it forever. Squaring her shoulders Tina downed her coffee and walked out of the kitchenette.

 

Four hours later she was sitting perched on the corner of Graves desk, watching the Director pace back and forth the length of his office. Every now and then he would stop in front of the board they had transfigured. The list Tina had been working on had been pinned on it, dozens and dozens of names written on it.

Too many.

They had spent most of the afternoon trying to narrow the list down only to expand it to virtually anyone working in the Woolworth Building with the exception of the eight witches and wizards from the Obliviated List, themselves, Queenie, and the President. Twelve people.

It seemed a gargantuan task to find a mole in the sheer number of people they had listed. Many could benefit from an alliance with the dark wizard. Descendants of witches and wizards who had perished in the Salem Witch Trials, No-Majborns who had been torn from their families because of Rappaport’s Law, there were too many who could have reason to follow Grindelwald. Too many.

She sighed.

Perhaps they were taking the wrong angle.

“You said before it must be more than one person.” she said contemplatively and Graves  stopped in his pacing, looking at her

“I did.” he replied “Between my capture, the impersonation and the escape, I find it hard to believe only one person aided him.”

“I think you’re right on that, sir.” Tina told him, balancing on the edge of the desk “Why don’t we try and focus on the roles this people had.”

“Go on.” he said, with a wave of his hand and walked towards her, coming to stand behind one of the chairs

He leaned his arms on the backrest.

“Right.” she said “Well, let’s look at the timing of the escape. It’s too much of a coincidence”

“Less than an hour after I was found.” Graves added with a nod and then moving his hand to point at something only he was seeing “Someone set the escape in motion.”

“It had to be one of the aurors on duty.” Tina muttered with a frown, pursing her lips “They were the first ones to know. No one else had the time. ”

“It could have been one of the Healers. Costanza got me there rather quickly” Graves added, a tinge of defensiveness in his tone that matched Tina’s reluctance to believe one of their own had betrayed them.

“Do we know who was on duty?” he asked her and Tina nodded, jumping off his desk and beginning to rummage through the parchments that covered almost the entirety of his desk.

“I have it here somewhere” she muttered, pushing her hair behind her ear with a nervous gesture and then triumphantly “There it is.”

She handed him a scroll of parchment bearing the Magical Personnel logo. It was a list of employees working the night shift the day of the escape. Percival unrolled it and began to read. It was divided by departments and he trailed down with his eyes until he found the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

“We can scratch Costanza from the list” Tina said, standing behind him and peering above his shoulder.

Percival felt his breath hitch as her presence registered behind him. But just as his heart picked pace he heard the sound of her footsteps.

“Rooke, Queaslin and Lewis” she listed, walking towards the board and pinning a clean sheet of Self-Writing Parchment that filled with the names as she spoke them.

“Malone and Slipper were on duty too.” he added, voice nearly quivering as he tried to regain some control over his body.

“They were out in Brooklyn, dealing with a Hag.” Tina explained “I remember signing the report.”

Then she walked back towards him, coming to stand by his side and craning her neck to look at the parchment he was holding in his hands. He held his breath, willing his heart to slow.

“What about the Hospital Ward staff?” Tina asked, glad her voice remained even while she inched closer to see the list that Graves was holding in front of him. She tried to read without having to lean close to Graves once again. The blush had barely retreated from her face when Graves had lifted his eyes from the list. But he appeared not to register her presence. She saw him swallow while his eyes were fixed on the parchment. Unmoving.

Tina leaned further to her left, coming to stand way closer than she should, but finally able to see the list written towards the bottom of the scroll. Graves exhaled a heavy breath. Suddenly she was looking at the list without seeing it, her own breath stuck in her throat.

She was standing too close. Too close. Almost touching him.

Her heart beat faster than ever, the sound drowning everything else. Her eyes moved from the names to his long fingers which were gripping the scroll almost white-knuckled.

She exhaled

Percival could feel her breath on his neck. It was almost ragged. It matched his own. His thoughts raced, muffled by the loud beating of his heart. By the soft sound of air coming out of her mouth. He stood still while the silence stretched, both of them unmoving in this impasse. She was not moving away. He should. One of them should. But Tina was not moving away and Percival didn’t want to. Not when she was so close. Not when all he had to do was turn his head to his right. He had never allowed himself to think of it, but as Tina kept standing there, close, so close, Percival found that he wanted. He wanted. He shouldn’t.

He did.

He lifted his eyes from the parchment and glanced to his right, knowing he was damning himself but not caring a bit. His head followed his eyes, looking at her. The flush on her cheeks, her lips slightly parted while her eyes stayed glued on the parchment. He held his breath watching the way her eyelids moved when she blinked, the way her hair fell over her ear. He looked at her eyes slowly moving up the list. And meeting his gaze. Dark pupils swallowing the brown.

Distantly Tina knew she should step back. She should really step back.

But she couldn’t. She could not will her body to move. Everything stood still. Her. Graves. Time itself. And as her thoughts faded to background noise Tina found herself losing ground, drowning in that gaze. Locked with her own.

Suddenly there was a hand, gingerly touching her arm and Tina exhaled a shaky breath, feeling like the universe converged in that single point where two layers of fabric divided his hand from her arm. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, it trailed up to her shoulder and then it disappeared, the absence of touch becoming a yearning that grew deep inside her. It was hovering next to her cheek and Tina felt her whole body pulled taut.

Her eyes lowered to his mouth and she could see his parted lips. Faintly she wondered what were they doing. Then fingertips caressed her cheek. And the touch was everything, featherlight and grounding, the axis of her world coming to a halt. Tina closed her eyes.

He looked at her dark lashes fluttering, and exhaled a shallow breath. She was beautiful. His fingers moved towards her temple and she leaned into his touch, cheek fitting in the curve of his palm. His thumb grazed the corner of her lips and they parted.

What were they doing? He faltered for a moment.

But then her hand reached out, fingers curling around his elbow. And his last restraint gave him. He leaned forward. His lips pressed on hers. 

She kissed him back, the fingers on his arm gripping him tighter.

And then, suddenly the Threat-Exposure Clock on his desk began to blare, echoing the shrill alarm that pierced through the whole Department.

 There was an emergency.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aurors:  
> [Beatty](https://cdn1.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/7494503/FantasticBeastsFarrell.jpg) is the one to the right.  
> [Slipper, Knowley and Queaslin](http://popcrush.com/files/2016/06/fantastic-beasts.jpg)  
> [Costanza and Lopez](http://static.srcdn.com/wp-content/uploads/Fantastic-Beasts-Seraphina.jpg) next to the President.


	11. The Breach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and exclamation marks! ♡

The sound of sirens echoed in the streets. Loud and shrill they pierced above the shouts and cries that rose from the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. Flames whooshed in the cold winter air, licking against the night sky. The shadows danced dangerously between the smoke and heat. Tina pushed her way through the crowd of No-Majs that had gathered in the middle of the street. Her nose was filled with the acrid smell of smoke and she coughed. It dragged like fingernails up her throat. But she elbowed her way towards the large cordon of No-Maj vehicles and water pumps that encircled the burning buildings. Or what was left of them.

Stopping behind the hull of an automobile, Tina watched in mild-horror the No-Maj firefighters battle against the onslaught of flames that rose higher and higher. She could almost taste the dark magic pulsing through the scorching air. It was not in the flames. It oozed from the wrecked walls like a ghost of a touch, like the lingering memory of darkness. Goosebumps rose on her arms as recognition settled in the pit of her stomach. There was something frighteningly familiar in the magic.

The smoke made her eyes water but she kept staring at the broken buildings ahead, engulfed by flames. All of a sudden, one of the No-maj firefighters, no more than a boy was engulfed by a plume of fire. And Tina had to grip her wand tightly in the pocket of her coat to stop herself from casting a Protego. They doused him with water, but the cries of pain sliced her from within. She swallowed, looking for the telltale leather coats of her fellow Aurors and Obliviators. What took them so long?

She spotted a couple of them as they approached the crowd from the various alleys of Hell’s Kitchen. The sound of shattering glass drew Tina’s wide eyes upwards just as one of the windows began spitting out flames. She watched them slide over the cracked windowsill, vicious orange dancing over the missing chunks of walls. And then farther, illuminating brightly the gaping expanse where a building should have stood. But there was only rubble. A grey pile of wrecked bricks and mortar, the wood of window frames and doors jutting out like broken fingers. 

Tina cast another look behind her shoulders, watching as more and more leather coats began to mingle amongst the onlookers. They were still too slow. She huffed with a worried frown and tapped her fingers on her wand impatiently. The second tenement looked on the verge of collapse, the gaping holes in the apartments showing the unnatural curve of the ceilings that swayed under the strain. The No-Majs pumping water seemed to see the danger but kept fighting the flames relentlessly, trying to stop them from spreading on the whole block.

She could see the hoses worm between the rubble scattered on the cobblestone and pavement, spitting water on the two burning tenements that flanked the wreckage. They needed to hurry.

Attention divided between the burning buildings and the crowd, Tina stood tense behind the automobile while the Obliviators began weaving through the crowd. Finally. There was the faintest wisp of light as they modified the onlookers’ memories. Mere minutes that could have been days as the building ahead swayed more and more precariously, the murmurs of a gas leak began to ebb and flow amid the crowd.  

And then suddenly the smoke started to grow thicker. The fire quickly began to abate. Tina tasted soot on her tongue and as another cough tore from her chest she put a handkerchief on her mouth. She could feel more than see the tendrils of magic weaving on the half-crumbled buildings, keeping them upright while all the No-majs were coaxed to leave the site.

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, the crowd started to disperse, nudged by the Obliviators and the No-Maj Repelling charms the Aurors were inconspicuously casting on the whole portion of the street. And Tina stepped around the hull of the automobile, striding towards the smoke-engulfed wreckage. She could see the sharp light of wards being drawn around the area as the Aurors took charge of the scene, No-Maj authorities dismissed with the duly Obliviations. Slicing her way through the rapidly cooling air, Tina saw Graves stand farther ahead, gesturing sharply as he coordinated the forces. She could not see him well through the smoke, but his expression was of the grimmest determination. Jaw squared and voice carrying through the scene with no amplification, he was quickly straightening the tangled chaos that surrounded them. 

It was the same man who had looked at her breathlessly less than an hour before. 

The unbidden thought made her heart suddenly thump in her ears. And for all that she willed the strange jumble of emotions to fade into the back of her mind the memory of his hand on her cheek lingered on her skin. Even with the soot on her tongue she could still taste his lips on hers. 

And it was too much. Too much.

She exhaled a breath and forced her gaze away from him. They had a dire situation to deal with. She had to focus. And if her heart stuttered as the memories refused to fade beyond the smoke that slowly cleared, Tina chose to ignore it. She had a job to do. 

The smell of scorched wood and mortar clinging to her nostrils was a sharp reminder.

Looking for the nearest Aurors, Tina whipped her wand and threw herself head first in the emergency protocol. Determination flowed along with her magic as she helped her colleagues lace the ward with an illusion for the No-Majs. Protecting the Statute of Secrecy was the most important task. Everything else paled in comparison. They could not risk another exposure. 

She waved her wand to cast another nonverbal spell. There was no Newt to save the day this time. 

Knowley and Malone were working nearby, grim expressions on their faces as they cast spell after spell. Knowley had been on duty but it had been Malone’s day off. Tina remembered how the Irish wizard had bragged about his wife having given birth to their third daughter just the day before. 

But everyone had been called on duty when the Magical Exposure Threat Level Measurer had sounded its alarm. And if it was the second time in less than a month, it only spoke of how important it was to find Grindelwald as soon as possible. Because Tina had no doubts. She was willing to bet her yearly wage this was Grindelwald’s doing.

Lowering her wand as she finished her part of the job, Tina took in the hubbub of Aurors who were frantically working on the scene. Revealing Spells flashed back and forth as the Tracking Team tried to do their job as quick as possible. The No-Majs could be repelled only so long. They had but a few hours to gather evidence and remove any lingering trace of magic. 

She gazed at the ruined buildings and grimaced. Spells could fix it, but the No-Majs would have to deal with that on their own. It was not fair, but they had seen the tenements go up in flames. They could not jeopardise the Statute of Secrecy.

One more spell and the illusion was complete. The two Aurors by her sides looked at her for instructions and Tina sent them to Beatty who appeared to be in charge of the Search and Rescue while Tina made her way through the rubble towards Queaslin and Lopez. The two were deep in discussion, nodding grimly.

“Quentin. Jim.” she greeted them “You took statements?”

“Ma’am.” Lopez greeted back, Queaslin following in the same fashion “Yeah we did.”.

Lopez took out his notepad, the messily scribbled pages turning on their own. 

“The No-Majs say the walls were shaking.” he began in his Brooklyn accent “Then there’s a loud bang, and a big cloud of smoke. Next thing they see, the building here goes down with a loud crash.”

“The old Italian lady said she smelled gas” Queaslin added “But only after. I think that’s what started the fire in the next tenement.” 

“No-Majs can believe in a gas leak as long as they like, this was magic, I tell you” Lopez said, wiping his brow with a handkerchief “This is like that mess in the City Hall Station” 

“I don’t know, Jim.” Queaslin bit back “It can’t be another one of  _ those _ . What are the odds?”

“Oh, dry up. Ma’am, you were there.” Lopez exclaimed, looking at her with intent “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Tina looked at the tawny wizard, trying to shake off the unease. But Lopez’s words had struck a chord. The dark magic that lingered in the air around them had the same quality, the same taste of wrongness Credence’s Obscurus had left behind in the subway. She could not deny it.

But it was impossible. Credence had boarded the steamship to Europe almost a fortnight before. Newt and him must had reached port by now. She expected a letter any day now.

It was impossible.

She shook her head minutely, dodging the question

“Who’s on Tracking?” she asked, glancing towards the flashes of the cameras and the orange and yellow light of the revealing spells.

“Slipper and that bird from Detection” Lopez replied nodding in the direction of the younger Auror and a witch Tina recognised from the Dark Magic Detection Office.

“I’ll go talk to them.” she told them before striding away through the rubble, leaving the two Aurors behind.

 

The scorched walls were rapidly cooling in the freezing winter air. Percival dug his gloves out of his coat and pulled them on, frowning at the disaster that was the Hell’s Kitchen block. Standing next to the less damaged tenement he observed the proceedings in silence. Seraphina stood by his side, a pinched expression on her face that spoke of thunderclouds gathering. She had not said much since her arrival, leaving him to manage the forces, but he had no doubt she was merely getting ready to unleash her cold fury on whomever was responsible for this.

Percival had little doubt this was Grindelwald’s handiwork. And the thought made him seethe.

The dome of magic crackled above as wisps of magic bounced off. He trailed the flash with his eyes, looking at the Search and Rescue Team who had just signalled another casualty. The fifth. A body slowly emerged from the debris and levitated towards a clearing where four more had been laid on the cobblestones. Two Mediwizards grimly moved between the lifeless bodies of the No-Majs. And bile rose steadily in Percival’s throat.

Five people dead because they had failed to keep the dark wizard in custody.

Because someone in the Magical Congress had helped him.

Rage tasted bitter on his tongue, a dry mixture of bile and ash. But he let it flow through him. He would find Grindelwald. 

_ They  _ would.

His eyes instinctively searched for a black hat and pale coat. She was striding through the rubble, the yellow and orange flashes of the Tracking Team spells dancing over her billowing coat, half open as it was. Her shoulders were squared in sheer determination and even if her face was to far to be discerned he could picture the hard look in her brown eyes. 

Eyes that had been blown wide. He swallowed dryly.

Now was not the moment to think about it. About  her hand on his arm, about the closeness of her body. Of her lips. But as he watched her nod sharply at something one of the aurors said, he could only replay over and over the smooth touch of her lips when he had kissed her.

He had  _ kissed _ her. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling through his nose. It shouldn’t have happened. It  _ shouldn’t  _ have happened. He could cite at least three regulations they had broken. She worked in his Department, Chief Auror or not. She worked for him. And beyond the rules there was always the undeniable fact that he was too old for her. 

He shouldn’t have kissed her. And yet, Percival could not find it within himself to regret it. 

She  _ had  _ kissed him back.

His eyes opened with a silent sigh and he shook his head. They were in the middle of a major breach of the Statute of Secrecy and all he could wrap his mind about was Tina’s slender form. 

A shout from the wrecked building snapped him out of his wretched thoughts, and Percival jumped to the opportunity, following the sound. One of the Junior Aurors was calling out. With a nod in Seraphina’s direction Percival began to walk towards him. Rubble crunched under his soles as he made his way to the small clearing they had made to lay the casualties. Lewis was standing awkwardly next to the bodies of the No-Majs. The young Auror’s freckled was face pale in the charmed lights that were hovering above the corpses. He looked at the six of them, cold tendrils on anger steady on his shoulders. 

The victims were all covered in sheets. Except for one. Lewis nodded before he averted his eyes and Percival crouched next to her.

It was a dark-skinned witch, middle aged by the look of her. Her mouth gaped frozen in a lifeless scream, her eyes wide open. The more he looked at her the more he noticed the subtle ways in which her body was contorted. And the traces of dark magic that still clung to her. It was strange, unnatural. A darkness he had not encountered before. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

A gasp sounded nearby and Percival turned his head to see Tina standing next to Lewis, eyes wide open and horror-struck.

“Tina?” he inquired, and her eyes dragged from the lifeless body of the witch to his own.

“This is Janelle Labonne” she said, barely louder than a whisper and then she added, white as a sheet “Lopez was right.” 

 

They were sitting in his office, Tina slumped in the chair in the corner while he paced back and forth from wall to wall. Queenie had brought them coffee but it was cooling forgotten on the desk while they nursed a glass of Firewhiskey. Tina scrunched her nose in displeasure but downed the liquor nonetheless. 

“Are you sure?” he asked her and she sighed, nodding dejectedly.

“Every Auror who was there in the subway will tell you the same.” she replied looking at him with a frown “And you were there, the Mediwizard saw the signs.”

Percival shook his head, resuming his pacing. His footsteps were almost too loud in the silent office. He stopped by his desk, leaning on the edge. His mind was a maelstrom, torn between the impossibility - the improbability at the very least - of what Tina had told him, and the facts which spoke almost eloquently.

“Another Obscurus.” he mouthed in the rim of his glass “There hadn’t been one in centuries and suddenly we have two in New York?”

“Three.” Tina interjected dryly “Don’t forget the one Newt carried around in his case.”

Of course, the one Grindelwald had used as proof to sentence Scamander and Tina to death. He downed the Firewhiskey to wash down the bile that rose up his gullet. The Obscurus that the Brit had removed from the Sudanese girl and which had become harmless after the death of its host. 

He carded his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back. Silence trickled above them, broken only by the faint sound of Tina’s breaths. He could feel her eyes on him and he lifted his eyes catching her gaze. 

“This case.” he said, waving a hand through the air, not knowing exactly what to say.

The wry curl of her lips told him Tina had understood him.

“I know.” she replied, lifting a corner of her lips “Two breaches of the Statute of Secrecy in less than a month. More than half a dozen casualties. And a second Obscurus. It’s a trainwreck of a case even without the moles and the runaway dark wizard.”

“When you put it like that.” he chuckled putting the glass down on the desk. 

Tina was still sitting on the chair but something in her composure changed and her expression became a strange mixture of hesitant and wondering. 

“Tina.” he began, mouth suddenly dry.

The words would not come. What did he want to say, anyway? That he regretted his actions? That it should have never happened? He swallowed, looking at her. Tina met his eyes for the longest moment before pushing her hands on the armrest and rising to her feet. She walked towards him, stopping with a half-aborted step just out of reach. She opened her mouth to speak. Then snapped it shut, conflicted emotions flickering through her face.

Then determination. And a step towards him.

“Do you regret it?” she asked, brown eyes boring into his.

“No.”

“Good.” she breathed before stepping towards him, boldness laced with hesitation.

And kissed him.

 


	12. The Calm Before The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really a difficult one to write. I hope I did them all justice.   
> Thank you all so much for you kudos and comments and general support! You make my day. <3

One of the Sneakoscopes ticked lightly. A faint sound of brass from within the cabinet that drowned in the fast beat of Percival’s heart as it thrummed in his ears. Loud. So loud. He exhaled a shaky breath. He could still feel the ghost of Tina’s lips on his own. The soft yet determined touch. The silent question. 

He looked at her, standing close to him with her dark eyes blown wide. Her lips were parted even as she held her breath. Percival looked at her flushed cheeks, a dusting of pink that travelled down to her neck. He could feel a coil of want sneak under his breastbone. His fingers itched to trail the soft curve of her cheekbones, to tangle in the brown locks that brushed her jaw. 

She was beautiful. Tall and lithe, and yet so soft in the curve of her mouth, the wave of her hair. The way it framed her face, brushing her cheeks. She was aglow, the countless shades of her character gently traced in her features. In her expression. There was hope and doubt laced together in her brown eyes. And Percival realised she was waiting for him.

She was waiting for him to answer her unspoken question. 

There were many answers. Many right answers. Ones that would appease his need to do right by his duty. By the rules. But for all that it was the wrong thing to do Percival could not find it within himself to regret it. 

None of it. 

Not that first kiss, so roughly interrupted by the call of duty. Nor the second one. The quiet statement that she wanted this. And for all that he shouldn’t, Percival knew he wanted it too.

He exhaled slowly. 

Rules and protocol had not crossed his mind in the rage and despair of his captivity, when he had thought her dead. When he had grieved her. Why should they matter now? He had sacrificed so much, everything for his job. For the safety of the Wizarding World. 

Was it so wrong to want something for himself?

Tina was a hairbreadth from him, looking expectantly. Waiting for him to accept or refuse. She wanted it too. So why should he care?

For once he found he didn’t want to.

His arms were moving, before he even willed them to. Knuckles kneading through strands of hair, tangled and soft at the same time, while his other hand sneaked around Tina’s waist. A breathless moment and then his lips were meeting hers once again.

And it was bliss. 

Percival felt her fingers grip his shoulder as she angled her body close to him. He deepened the kiss, palm cupping her jaw. And her lips yielded. Opened up. He could taste Firewhiskey on her tongue. A faint echo of the dragonfire that was starting to simmer in his limbs. 

There was an aching need in the way their arms curled around their bodies. A scorching pull that rattled his breaths within his lungs, trapped. 

And all ceased. 

In the weightlessness of the moment everything converged in her. In the yearning press of her mouth. In the warmth of her body as it slotted against his own. In Tina. She was the beginning and end of all, the silver thread of magic connecting every particle of his being to the here and now, to the deafening thrum of his heart. To the crucible of emotions he had never allowed himself to ponder.

Everything flowed. He was and he wasn’t. Lost in the burning of his breath, trapped within his lungs. And not caring about it. About anything. Only her.

Then slowly, excruciatingly slowly, it began to ebb. A dimming of the light before their breaths came almost in gasps. Lips hovering in the aftermath of the kiss.

Percival could feel his chest heave as the coil of burning want grew tighter inside him. She was flushed to the roots of her mussed hair, eyes shiny and lips pulled in the beginning of a smile. 

He wanted to kiss her again. And again. And never stop. 

But there was a time and a place. 

He swallowed, taking a semblance of hold on his composure.

“It’s getting late, Tina.” he told her, eyes boring into hers, pupils wide.

His voice was hoarse and Tina nodded, still dazed by her own boldness. 

She had kissed him. And he had kissed her back, answering her unuttered question with a resounding yes that left her breathless. Her heart there and then had threatened to burst out of her chest, so fast it beat. It had not stopped racing since.

“I’ll… I’ll see you in the morning then.” she managed, pulling apart and missing the warmth, the closeness.

“Yes.” he replied, sliding his hand away from her cheek.

It was almost a caress. Her stomach fluttered.

“Goodnight, sir.” she told him, reluctantly turning towards the door.

“Percival.” he said, stopping her just as she made to walk away. “If we’re going to do this…”

Tina felt her eyes widen even as something warm coiled around her lungs.

“Percival.” the word rolled strangely on her tongue, but she lifted her lip in a lopsided smile.

“Goodnight then.” she told him quietly “Goodnight, Percival”

 

The smell of chamomile tea filled the airy office. There was a plume of steam rising from the china cup on Miss Tillyworth’s desk, curling towards the painting of President Fleming who slept peacefully inside his frame. Miss Tillyworth moved a finger to wandlessly stir the spoon, eyes never lifting from the stack of parchment in front of her. The thin metal chain of her reading glasses swayed lightly on its own accord, brushing the elderly witch’s curls every now and then. 

Percival idly observed Seraphina’s secretary while he waited for the President to see him. When he had gotten to his office, Queenie had told him his immediate presence had been requested, and he had only shrugged his coat off before striding back towards the elevator. The presidential summons had come as no surprise in the light of yesterday’s attack. The Statute of Secrecy had nearly been breached once again. And it had been another Obscurus. Or so did most of his Department believe. Along with Tina.

Unbidden images of the dark-haired witch suddenly popped in his mind and Percival swallowed, feeling his heart increase its pace. He could not help his mind from wandering to Tina. 

To the entirely unexpected turn of events. 

He had walked out of his office the night before in a daze, scarcely believing himself. And yet the vivid memory of their lips pressed together, of the sharpness of her hipbone against his arm when he had pulled her closer, it was all still fresh in his mind. It had indeed happened. 

A breath escaped his mouth, too close to a sigh for his liking and Percival scowled. They were in the middle of a crisis. And here he was, daydreaming while the Wizarding Community was in danger of exposure. He shook his head. It was unbecoming. Like it wasn’t enough that they knew too little to be able to deal efficiently with this threat, he allowed himself to be distracted. 

President Jackson eyed him with disdain from his ornate frame, no doubt judging his antics. Percival’s scowl deepened. 

He had never been fond of the numerous paintings of former presidents. Too many of them held themselves with a haughty attitude that reminded him of the members of the International Council of Wizards. After more than two years as Director of Magical Security, attending their meetings remained the least enjoyable part of his job. The lengthy and often pointless discussions, the fake deference the heads of the Wizarding governments showed to one another, it always took a  toll on his patience. Politics had never been something he enjoyed. The only reason he had accepted the position was that it allowed him to do his job more efficiently, without the constant interference of a superior. 

Except for the President herself.

Who had chosen that moment to wave the door to her office open with a cold

“Come in.” in lieu of a greeting.

Percival rose from his seat under the large portrait of President McGillyguddy. With a nod in Miss Tillyworth’s direction, he strode in Seraphina’s office.

“Phina.” he greeted, taking a seat in front of her massive desk “You wanted to see me.”

“I did.” the dark-skinned witch replied with her usual coldness, folding her hands in front of her. 

Her headpiece glittered in the sunlight that streamed from several windows, warmer in some, fainter in others. The faint twirls of the aurora borealis coloured the Alaskan window, greens and violets dancing like waves of magic. 

“We need to solve this as soon as possible, Percy.” she told him in a clipped voice “We can’t have Grindelwald on the loose.”

“I have every auror working on it.” he replied with a sharp gesture of his hand “Trust me Phina, I can’t wait to throw that bastard in the Death Cell.”

She exhaled.

“I can imagine.” she retorted tartly, then her features regained her marble composure.

“The International Council is making pressure on us, Percy.” Phina said with an ugly curl of her lips  “We could face harsh consequences if this thing is not contained.”

“They want to intervene?” he asked sharply.

“I managed to appease them for now, but they will want results soon.” she replied “Two meetings in less than a month - they were not happy.”

She continued to speak, but Percival had stopped listening. 

“Meeting?” he interrupted her with a clipped voice “There was a meeting?”

“Yesterday night.” she said with a small nod that made her headpiece twinkle in the sunlight that streamed from the Virginian window.

Percival felt his nostrils flare, but managed to keep his voice even.

“Is there any particular reason why I was not invited to this  _ meeting _ ?” he inquired, looking at the dark-skinned witch with a barely contained glare.

“There was.” she replied without batting an eyelid “I had to convince the Council of our ability to protect this Wizarding Community. Your presence would have only served as a reminder of our previous failure to do so.”

He looked at Seraphina for a long moment. When he spoke it was with the most level tone.

“Are you asking me to resign?” 

Seraphina gave him a hard look, placing both palms on her desk and rising from her seat. 

“No, Percy.” she said, irritation dripping from her voice “I’m asking you to fix this. And do it soon. Or you won’t be the only one forced to resign.”

 

The sky was overcast, a dull grey that echoes the cobblestone of Park Place Street. Streetcars and pedestrians hurried in all directions. Tina watched them through the charmed window of Queenie’s office, leaning her elbow on a file cabinet, deep in thought. The walls of her office had been too confining, smothering her while she tried to sort through the landslide of impressions from the day before. The attack, the Obscurus, the victims, Graves. 

Percival, she corrected herself, feeling a blush bloom on her cheeks. 

Tina had not told Queenie about it yet, but her sister had grinned merrily upon seeing her. She had already known. Of course. But for all that it made her heart hammer and disbelief tingle in her chest, it wasn’t Percival who weighted on her mind making her seek the bright comfort of her sister’s presence. 

That morning while she had been walking out of the alley near the Woolworth Building, an idle idea crossed her mind. And refused to budge, gnawing its way through her thoughts. 

Was there truly another Obscurus?

She turned her head, the unspoken question on the forefront of her mind, and Queenie gasped, grey eyes widening. Several stacks of parchment stopped in mid-air halted in their movement by Queenie’s surprise.

“Teenie, that’s impossible!” her sister exclaimed, her blond curls bobbing as she shook her had “They left New York two weeks ago.”

“I know. But what are the odds that  _ another  _ Obscurus is in New York?” Tina asked, pursing her lips.

She began pacing the small office, from cabinet to cabinet. Guilt had settled heavily on her shoulders. Everyone in the Magical Congress believed Credence was dead, and while she had done for the boy’s safety, Tina could not help but wonder if she had only aided and abetted the Hell’s Kitchen disaster. Six lives had been lost and their community had nearly been exposed.

“You think Credence did this?” Queenie gasped, eyes impossibly wide “But Teenie, why would he? He is such a sweetheart. So full of sadness. You don’t think that he ran away and returned here, Teenie, right?”

Or never left. Tina shook her head. 

No, she didn’t think it had been Credence who had wrecked a whole block in Hell’s Kitchen the day before. Tina refused to believe Newt had lied to her. To add to that the Barebone boy had truly been in a dreadful state the last time she had seen him. But what if she was wrong? What if she had allowed her emotions to cloud her judgement?

It was a risk she should not be taking. As an auror. As the  _ Chief  _ Auror. 

“I don’t know what to think, Queenie.” 


	13. The Impossible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay, but I was dragged in Yuri On Ice!!! hell and spent most of the week working on a monster of a fic. *looks sheepishly*  
> In a foolhardy attempt at asking your forgiveness I have not ended this chapter with a cliffhanger. Please accept my penance. *is prostrated on the floor begging for mercy*  
> (Though, if any of you is also a YOI fan, I'll be posting my fic soon.)  
> And onwards with the chapter. <3

The morgue was quiet, but for the ticking of a clock. The dim light on the desk illuminated Prof. Underpicker, weaving into his white hair and beard. He hummed to himself while he lifted his cup of coffee and sipped it. There were biscuits on a plate nearby, and the smell of cinnamon and coffee mingled unpleasantly with the distinctive tang of the potions used to preserve the bodies. Tina’s stomach quivered. She tried to stifle it down, breathing through her mouth.

Slowly the nausea receded and she swallowed, looking at the elderly wizard who sat in front of her.

“Are you sure you don’t want some? It’s quite good. Proper Arabica.” the Magipathologist inquired as he caught her looking at him. He sported a cheerful smile under his white beard.

Tina exhaled slowly. Then inhaled.

“No, thank you sir, I’ll pass.” she replied, trying to forget she was sitting in the same room as the late Janelle Labonne, who was currently laid underneath a pristine white sheet on the examination table.

She could see the bauble of light floating above the body with the corner of her eye. It made her uneasy. The woman was still a suspect for all they knew, but Tina could not stop the bile from rising as she remembered the magic that had lingered around her. 

“I apologise for making you wait, my dear.” the Magipathologist said after a while, flicking away the crumbs from his fingers. “But I would prefer for the Director to be here as well.”

“Don’t worry, Professor” she reassured the elderly wizard “I can wait.”

And she could. She was in no hurry. After bidding her sister goodbye, Tina had returned to her office to find a paper mouse awaiting for her. Prof. Underpicker had kindly asked her to come to the morgue since he had finished the postmortem on the late prison guard who had perished in the Obscurus attack the day before. And Tina had hurried down to the Hospital Ward, to the grumling of Red who always complained about Aurors and their habit of being in a hurry.

As minutes trickled by her mind wandered back to the case. To the problem of Credence.

Talking with Queenie had not eased her mind. In fact, the more she thought about it, the guiltier she felt for omitting the truth to Percival. But even as she felt the bitter taste of a lie on her tongue, Tina could not find it herself to share that yet. What if she had been right in the first place and Credence was with Newt somewhere in Europe, slowly healing from a lifetime of abuse? She wanted to protect him, any way she could. It hurt enough to know that had she dealt with Mary Lou differently they might have been able to help Credence before Grindelwald had taken a hold of him. 

Telling Percival, sharing the nagging pinprick of suspicion that the Hell’s Kitchen disaster was the Barebone boy’s doing, it would put him in danger. It would make MACUSA hunt him down. And Tina knew how they would see him, a dangerous creature that needed to be put out. 

She could not do it.

Not until she had evidence to support her theory. A suspicion was not enough to gamble someone’s life on.

A sharp knock resounded and Tina turned her head just in time to see Percival enter the morgue.

“Tina, Professor.” he greeted.

Tina’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t seen him since the night before, since their  _ kiss _ . His eyes lingered on her for a moment and she felt a blush travel up to her cheeks.

“Good morning, Director.” Prof. Underpicker exclaimed cheerfully, setting down his cup of coffee and effectively breaking their eye contact “I’d offer you a cup Mr. Graves, but I fear we have wasted enough time, yes?”

Percival nodded while Tina tried to compose her expression.

“Some other time, Professor.” he told the Magipathologist politely.

The white haired wizard slowly got up from his chair and motioned them towards the table in the centre of the room. Tina followed him, looking at the shrouded body laid on the table. With a flick of Prof. Underpicker’s wand the sheet glided down the body to reveal Janelle Labonne’s lifeless face and Tina’s stomach rolled.

“As you may know I have been working in this field for over seventy years.” the elderly wizard told them “And I must admit I have not yet encountered something akin to our girl here.”

Tina raised her eyes from the dark-skinned woman on the table. Percival’s head was slightly inclined, eyebrows furrowed.

“The markings on her face show clearly the magical trace of an Obscurus” the Professor began, pointing at the greyish scars on the side of Mrs. Labonne’s face which resembled the ones Tina had seen on Senator Shaw and Mary Lou Barebone “However, upon further examination I suspected an anomaly which the autopsy confirmed.”

He stopped for a moment, looking at Tina and Percival.

“The Obscurus burst out of her” he told them, tone more serious than Tina had ever heard him be. 

She frowned, trying to understand what he was saying.

“Our witch here is the Obscurial.” he clarified. 

“That’s impossible!” Percival exclaimed “Mrs. Labonne was a witch. I have personally witnessed her performing magic.”

“You not incorrect” Underpicker rebutted with a small smile “But at the very same time I can tell you she was killed from within, just like any other Obscurial.”

“Not to doubt your expertise, Professor.” Tina began cautiously “But are you certain?”

“I am, my dear” he replied with a sigh “Thirty years ago I examined an Obscurial girl in Britain, and she sported the same signs.” 

He pulled the sheet further down, and revealing Mrs. Labonne’s chest. The uppermost branches of the postmortem incision trailed down from her collarbones, black thread stitching them closed. Underneath them the dark skin was crisscrossed with a spiderweb of pale scars that resembled the marks Janelle Labonne sported on her face, but unlike them, the scars on her chest converged into a single scorched patch of skin above the breastbone.

“This is where the Obscurus burst out.” the Magipathologist pointed “The markings are present inside her body as well. The Obscurus left her body devoid of any lingering magic. Just like any other dead Obscurial.”

“You are trying to convince us that a grown witch who has power, repressed her magic and suddenly became an Obscurial?” Percival asked with scepticism, even though his eyes spoke differently.

“I have no explanation for this phenomenon.” Prof. Underpicker said with a weary shrug “It’s unprecedented, and in contrast with everything we know on Obscuri. I cannot fathom how this has come to pass.”

“But it happened.” Tina said, looking at both wizards.

“Yes, my dear. Every single examination I have performed corroborated it. Our girl hosted an Obscurus inside her. And it killed her.” the Magipathologist said with a tinge of sadness in his voice as the sheet trailed up the body, covering it from view.

 

It was late afternoon on New Year’s Eve, but every Auror was in the Major Investigation Department, eagerly waiting for news on the case. Percival was standing near the board, looking at the assembled wizards and witches. Ever since he had returned to work he had seen them grow tenser and tenser as the manhunt reached dead ends on every front. But after the attack in Hell’s Kitchen the day before, the tension in the Department seemed to have reached a new level. They looked half an inch from their snapping point. And Percival was not sure how it would affect their performance.

They needed something to focus. They needed to make at least a semblance of progress. 

Tina was nearby, recounting the meeting with the Magipathologist. As she reached the point where she explained the paradox of Janelle Labonne, Percival saw several eyebrows cock.

“Ma’am, you’re... you’re saying someone put an Obscurus inside Mrs. Labonne” one of the Junior Aurors, Rooke, asked, thick eyebrows contorted into a frown.

“Don’t be stupid, kid!” Lopez exclaimed in annoyance “You cannot just shove an Obscurus into someone.”

Most of the aurors nodded, and a couple of snickers sounded from the back.

“Besides, where would you get one?” Claire Costanza asked, a half grin on her face.

“Who knows maybe you can order it by owl.” Malone joked in his lilting accent and the snickers turned to guffaws.

Percival glared at them until they regained their composure. 

He could understand their bewilderment, he was not faring any better. But now was not the time to jest. Even without Seraphina’s warning, Percival did not underestimate the seriousness of the situation. 

“What about the other victims?” Beatty asked in his rough voice.

“None of them was killed by magic.” Tina replied “At least not directly. Some of them died in the explosion, while others were killed by the smoke and the fire.”

The grim expressions of his aurors reflected his own emotions on this case. 

“I want you to keep looking for Grindelwald.” Percival ordered them, stepping forwards “We have every reason to suspect he was involved with this. Look under every brick in this city. Talk to every informant you have. I don’t care how you do it. Get me that bastard in custody. ”

A chorus of “Yes, sir” resounded before they were all leaving, more motivated than they had been to begin with.

It was good to know he had not lost his touch with his speeches.

Tina was still standing nearby, with a fond smile on her lips. 

Despite the trainwreck of a case, he could not stop his heart from fluttering. He took a step closer and she looked at him with a soft expression that held more inside it. An echo of the want coursing through him. 

“I’d ask you to dinner.” he told her, standing close enough to touch her.

“But we have a case to solve.” she finished his sentence, lips curling upwards in a smile. 

One of her hands gently rested on his arm, and Percival had to resist the urge to kiss her, there in the middle of the Major Investigation Department. 

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I want to have dinner with you.” he murmured, watching her blush trail up her cheeks.

“So do I, Percival.” she told him, and hearing his name from her lips made his breath hitch.

There was something profoundly right in the way it sounded, the rolling of her tongue on the first syllable. He lingered there, too close for decency, and yet not crossing that border. They were in public, anyone could see them. And if Percival had decided to disregard fraternisation rules and potential conflict of interests, it did not mean everyone would be so kind. Moreso considering they had at least one mole in MACUSA.

He swallowed, reluctantly letting his hand drop.

“We should get back to work.” he said.

Tina nodded, looking as flustered as he felt.

“I’ll..” she cleared her throat “I’ll get back to the Obliviations?”

“It would be the best.” he told her, taking half a step back and running a hand over his hair “I was thinking of contacting the Headmistress of Ilvermorny. We need to find out more about Obscuri.”

“I can write to Newt. Scamander.” Tina said “He had dealt with Obscuri before.”

Percival nodded.

“Yes, do it.” he told her, reluctantly pulling away.

They had work to do.

 

The couch groaned under her when she flopped onto it. The sound of celebrations came through the closed windows. Midnight had struck some time before and another year had ended. Tina leaned back on the cushions, unable to force herself to care. Queenie had joined a party with some of the witches from the Typing Pool. She had insisted for Tina to come with her, but she had stayed in the office until way past eleven, writing a letter to Newt and then getting back to the list of suspects.

She was thinking of using Queenie to check them out. They needed to narrow it down considerably, but it wouldn’t hurt if her sister paid more attention to the aurors who had been on duty the day Percival had been found. 

Tina flicked her wand and turned the gramophone on. She was incredibly tired, but she was too keyed up to sleep. The droning of the singer filled the quiet of her apartment and Tina closed her eyes, letting her thoughts wander. 

Percival and his dark eyes, looking at her. The emotions she had read in them. The way it had felt to kiss him, to lean close to him. His arms wrapping around her. It would be incredibly easy to Floo herself to his home, to pull him into the kiss they had denied themselves hours before. But even as she wondered about the possibility Tina asked herself what she wanted. Did she want a clandestine affair or did she want more?

The way Percival had acted, leaned towards the latter, and just the thought that his feelings could be deeper than an infatuation, made her own heart stutter. She could feel the silly grin spreading on her face. And she let it be. 

The record finished and the needle scratched without music. Tina flicked her wand, to put it away and got up from the couch. She should get some rest.

“Happy New Year.” she murmured to the empty apartment. 

  
  
  
  
  



	14. The Host

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG guys I'm still alive. This chapter was 80% written and just simmering in my folder bc the muse had abandoned me. :( I finished it, edited and everything, but I'm really not sure when I'll be able to update next. However I intend to see this fic to completion. The plot is already outlined. So keep your fingers crossed and hope the muse decides to pay me a visit.  
> Sorry for the incredibly long wait!!  
> <3

It was snowing again. A strong arctic wind had descended down on New York and the streets were shrouded in a frozen mist. Warming charms helped, but even magic struggled against the onslaught of snowflakes that whipped at Tina’s face as she made her way to the office. Everything would be much simpler if only they could Apparate directly in the Woolworth Buildings. But the wards around the Headquarters had been layered inside the outer and inner walls, etched with runes to make sure no one would enter or exit except through the front door.

Even inside the building itself Apparition was impossible. The only leeway was that Portkeys could be used within the building, since their creation was a strictly monitored business. Not that it would help Tina in her current situation. She scowled in the thick scarf around her neck. No Portkey could breach the outer wards, and even if it could it was highly illegal to make one. Only the Travel Regulation Office could issue one, and Abernathy had to sign the form since it was part of his department.

Pulling her coat tighter around her body and muttering yet another Warming spell, Tina pushed her way through the snowstorm, her hat sticking to her head by sheer force of magic. Shivering she managed to reach the stairs of the Woolworth building and stumbled inside the lobby with a whirlpool of snow at her heels.

She waved her wand in drying spells as she walked up the stairs and several witches and wizards were doing the same while the mops wiped away the puddles of slush that seemed to follow the MACUSA employees. 

“Morning Red.” she greeted the bellboy squeezing herself between two portly wizards, while a gangly clerk, tried to shift closer to the wall to give them all more space.

“Major Investigation?” he asked and Tina blinked.

“Yes, sorry.” she apologised “I think my wits froze outside.”

The goblin grunted something as he set the elevator in motion and Tina wondered what would greet her at the office today. The past week had been, mildly put, eventful, what with the Hell’s Kitchen incident and the Obscurial mystery. Tina had written to Newt only to receive a letter the day after. For a moment she had wondered how on earth had he managed to reply already, but as she had read the date on the corner she had realised the Englishman had sent it when they had made port. He had reassured her the journey had been uneventful and that Credence had healed enough to be able to help Newt with his beasts to an extent. He had not delved in how the Obscurial was dealing with the whole situation, but apparently the Obscurus had not made an appearance, which eased Tina’s worries.

She was suddenly glad she had not told Percival about her suspicions. Credence was across the Atlantic after all. But Newt’s letter had a postscriptum that had made Tina feel a overwhelmingly guilty. Credence wanted to know if his sisters were alright. And Tina had no idea what had happened to the girls. She had been so swept up in the events she had completely forgotten about them. For all that they were No-Majs she should have at least found out what fate had befallen them. 

But instead she was entirely in the dark.

Queenie too had gasped when she had read first Tina’s thoughts and then the letter. She supposed her feelings for Jacob made her even more invested in the fate of the No-Maj girls. Naturally Tina had wanted to go and look for the girls, but the Grindelwald case had expanded with each day as new information filtered in. 

Or actually a lack thereof.

New York had been eerily calm ever since the Hell’s Kitchen incident. It seemed that all criminal activity had quieted down. For five days in a row there had been no arrest. Not even on a minor charge. Nothing. It was unprecedented. And worried both Tina and Percival to no end. Only someone as powerful as Grindelwald could achieve something like this. And the question was, why?

So when Tina stepped off the elevator after having travelled up and down the Woolworth building until the three wizards had gotten on their respective floors, she was naturally wary of what would be next on the plate.

“Morning ma’am” Lopez greeted her from his desk as she entered the Auror Department.

“Lopez.” she greeted back with a nod “Any news?”

“None.” Knowley replied “A couple of minor felonies, but nothing on the Grindelwald case”

“Well, at least we arrested someone, right?” Lopez joked, but the younger Auror just pursed her lips.

“Is the Director in?” she asked and Knowley nodded.

“Just came in too.” Lopez said “I wouldn’t go see him, though. Boss looked pissed off. Blizzards don’t agree with him”

“Do they agree with anyone?” Tina asked with a small smile.

“Sure they do, look at Quentin over there, ever seen someone more cheerful?” Lopez joked, pointing at the blond auror who looked sullenly at the paperwork on his desk.

“Rooke’s happy enough.” Knowley observed, nodding towards Tina’s old desk where the Junior Auror worked with his usual eagerness “Though you might make him live down that comment.”

“Oh, come on, girl. It was the best thing I’ve heard in this Department for a while.” Lopez complained “Putting an Obscurus inside the dead witch!”

“If he files a formal complaint I’ll have to reprimand you.” Tina told him with an eloquent look, then cocking a corner of her mouth “Or I might just send you to the Director. I’m sure your humour will lift his mood.”

Lopez mockingly gripped his heart.

“Ma’am, we’ve known each other for how long?” he exclaimed “You wouldn’t do that to an old colleague. I’ve known you longer than my wife.”

“That’s because you’ve been married thrice already.” Costanza piped in, putting a thick folder on his desk, then tilting her head at Tina she greeted “Ma’am.”

Tina shook her head and walked towards her office. She was glad the atmosphere in the Department had not suffered under the strain they had all been put. Rooke’s pride might suffer a bit, but as long as they were able to joke they could go on. This was a case none of them was prepared for. And they very likely had a mole in the Department to boot. 

Her coat and hat floated to the rack, and she glanced at the amount of paperwork waiting for her signature. She unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk and fished out the cardboard folder on the Mole, briskly walking out of her office. Percival might be in a bad mood, but they had work to do. 

And she wanted to see him. They had not had many chances to spend time together, both taking a rain check on their dinner. She knocked on his door and a terse “Come in.” sounded from within.

“Morning, Percival.” she greeted and his scowl turned into a ghost of a smile.

“Tina.” he said, getting up from behind an impressive pile of parchment.

“Are they trying to bury you in paperwork?” she teased, meeting him halfway across the room and fixing a lock of hair that had fallen from his pristine hairdo.

His fingers closed around her wrist and he tilted forwards, capturing her lips with his. Her breath caught in her throat as she leaned closer, deepening the kiss. Percival’s mouth tasted like coffee and something distinctly unique. Her heart fluttered as she let herself melt into the rush of emotions which rose inside her. It was perfect.

Tina’s cheeks were flushed when they broke apart and it took them both a moment to compose themselves. She tugged at the collar of her blouse even though she knew it was not dishevelled. But she couldn’t help feeling like she was back in Ilvermorny, hiding in broomstick closets, while her heart beat loudly with the adrenaline of snogging under the teachers’ watchful eyes.

She was a grown witch now, but the need for secrecy made her feel fourteen years old.

Tina shook her head, looking at Percival with a small smile on her face. His own stern mouth quirked as well before a serious expression descended on him. 

“I received a reply from Ilvermorny.” he told her, flicking his wand to summon a crisp sheet of parchment, and her blush was suddenly forgotten as she got back into Auror mode. 

“They are as baffled as we are.” Percival added “but they offered some insight. Here.”

He gave her the letter and Tina plopped down on the chair in the corner, laying her folder on the small table next to it. Her eyes raced across the parchment, a small crease forming between her eyebrows. Percival watched several expressions flicker over her face, settling on one he could not exactly pinpoint. A strange glint shimmered in her eyes, and he could almost see the cogs turning.

“It says the Obscurus cannot survive outside the host.” she said slowly, lifting her eyes from the parchment and looking straight at him with the look of a hound that had found the trail of scent.

“That’s nothing we didn’t know already.” he told her, leaning on the corner of his desk, curious to see  _ what  _ she had read in that letter that he might have missed.

“We did.” she replied with a nod. Then, in a sudden movement she was back to her feet, and pacing across his room

“Percival you were there during Newt’s interrogation, right?” she asked him, her eyes shimmering with determination, and he nodded. He remembered all too well  _ that  _ particular interrogation. He could almost taste the fear he had felt in those moments, and the utter helplessness. 

He didn’t even realise he had curled his fingers into fists, nails digging into the flesh of his palm until he felt Tina’s worried look. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and he could see she was already berating herself for her bluntness, so he shook his head.

“Go on.” he said, and she opened her mouth only to close it shut a moment later.

“Alright.” she said with a sharp nod “Do you remember what Grindelwald said about the Obscurus?” she inquired, but she was just trying to prove a point he could tell.

“It cannot survive outside the host?” he tried, quirking an eyebrow, but Tina shook her head quickly, eyes dancing.

“He said it’s useless.” Tina said earnestly, stopping in front of him “He had the Sudanese girl’s Obscurus floating inside a bubble of magic and he said it was useless…” 

Percival frowned, not quite following her, but she wasn’t done.

“What happened to it?” she asked “It was not in Newt’s suitcase afterwards, I’m positive.”

His frown deepened, but it was laced in an eerie sense of foreboding. And when he looked at Tina he saw she was thinking the same thing. It was impossible. Unheard of. 

But then again nothing Grindelwald had done had been ordinary, hadn’t it?

“We don’t have it in evidence.” he said. If MACUSA had stored something of that level of dangerous, he would have needed to sign the approval, or his doppelganger would have at the very least. And after having perused every single document the dark wizard had signed while posing as Graves, he was certain no Obscurus had been stored in the Woolworth Building.

At least not legally.

“What if Rooke was right?” Tina asked, voicing Percival’s suspicions “Lopez’s been mocking the hell out of him, but what if he was right? What if Grindelwald put the Obscurus there?”

Percival pursed his lips but he didn’t say anything. If it had seemed preposterous as a thought it sounded even more absurd when spoken aloud. And yet, if someone would have told Percival he would be abducted by Grindelwald and kept captive in his own cigarette case, unable to do a whit about it, he would have glared at the stupidity of that person. 

The dark wizard was singular in his abilities.

“It sounds mad.” he said, and Tina opened her mouth to speak “ _ However _ , he’s done impossible things. If there is a way to do this, to force an Obscurus into a host other than the child who had developed it, he would be the one to do it.”

Tina nodded.

“It fits perfectly with the timeline, the events, the Polyjuice.” she said earnestly “He could have stored it somewhere in the building.”

“He would have needed time to retrieve it.” Percival said, earning an eager nod from Tina “Polyjuicing the guard to look like him bought him enough time to do that.”

“And we know Janelle Labonne was with him.” she added, dangling the last piece of the puzzle in front of his nose, and Percival voiced it, gravely.

“He used her as the host”

 


End file.
